Sailing Adventure in the Mediterranean
Bill Matthews aboard in the Med
With a bad ankle as vacation time rolled around this May, I had to change my plans about hiking in England as a follow-up to my recent hike across Ireland. While searching for information about Italy on the Internet I found an enticing offer. It was a chance to join the crew of a 42-foot sailboat, Clizia, as it sailed the Mediterranean off the coast of Italy. For 35 euros a day, the offer said, the adventurous could join a sailboat as a crew member, doing as little or as much crewing as he or she wanted. The cost, which with today’s weak dollar amounted to about $46 a day, included boat, berth and board.
So in early May 2005, I flew to Amsterdam, then boarded a small airplane for Rome. After an overnight in Rome, I took a four-hour bus ride to the opposite coast of Italy, to the resort city of San Bernadetto de Tonto. I arrived with a bad sinus infection, caused probably from the stale air in the puddle jumper airplane from Amsterdam.
Before leaving home I emailed the skipper several times, first of my interest, then about my concern that I’d be out of my element if the boat was full of young folks. He wrote back, not to worry, that he was over the hill himself. I got his cell phone number (yep…they are everywhere—even out in the Med) so I could call and arrange to meet when I reached the eastern coast of Italy.
When I got to San Bernadetto de Tonto and phoned, the skipper’s girl friend answered. They were in town visiting the markets, stocking up on food for the day and the next. With no refrigeration on-board, just a small cooler that didn’t hold ice long, each day required a shopping trip into town to find a market. So for lunch and dinner on-board Clizia we were treated with fresh vegetables and meat from the market in the village or town near where we were moored for the night.
The Clizia is a small sailboat! I’ve spend a weekend on Cousin Jan McCormack’s 32 footer when she was docked in San Diego about four years ago. Mason and I spent a couple nights on-board with Jan. But this was different. The Clizia was a full-time live aboard boat for the skipper, his girl friend, Biba and their two-year old boy. They used the forward sleeping cabin. In the main cabin on the starboard side was a bunk that could be extended to create a double. On the port side was a single bunk. Also in the cabin was a small stove top, a microwave oven and a mini-sink. In bad weather when eating in the cabin was preferred to outside in the cockpit, a folding table was placed between the two bunks.
I brought rain. That afternoon and through most of the night, we endured light showers. A rain cover was placed over the cockpit, allowing the skipper to use the helm without getting wet. The cockpit was also the sleeping overflow area.
Only one other person was on-board when I got there--a former Navy Seal from out west, in his early 30s, who said he was bumming around the world after a catastrophic parachuting exercise. He was on disability from a broken back and hip, but actually appeared no worse for the fall. He was an interesting guy who enlivened the boat with his salty attitude. When I came aboard he set out trying to make sure I knew what a devil-may-care character he was. He had boarded about three weeks earlier just north of Venice and planned to stay all summer, leaving sometime in August. The skipper, Dave, and he (I think his name was Kienan) had bonded well in the meantime and the young fellow had quickly become a valuable crew who needed no prodding when something had to be done. As the week wore on, he shook off his attitude and turned out to be a decent guy; Biba, Dave’s girl friend of five years and he got along famously, and he appeared more like Dave’s son than a crew member
Skipper Dave was a former musician from Ohio who traveled the states playing gigs in many of the major cities. He then moved to Europe and yet more traveling from city to city. He said he got tired of being thrown around by agents and after a few years on the continent, found Clizia, slowly restored her and began the odyssey that continues today. He plans to relocate to the Caribbean in a year or two with the help of his parents who want to spend more time with their new grandson.
Biba was a sweetheart. Tall, slender and from Latvia, one of the former states of the Soviet Union, she was the linguist in the group. In addition to Latvian and Russian, she spoke English (very well) and Turkish. She had picked up enough Italian to browse through the local markets with no trouble at all. She was only 35, about 15 years younger than Dave. Biba could do anything, it seems. No matter what sailing chore popped up, she knew how to respond, and moved decisively. She made me feel at home and treated me more like family than a guest.
The first night, with a light rain, and me with a bad sinus infection, was not a good one. The sinus infection had stolen my sleep the night before, so I was pooped when dark came. Sailors, of course, stay up late so while wine flowed and conversation hummed among Biba, Dave and Kienan in the cabin, I excused myself and tried to find a comfortable position in the cockpit, under the rain cover. I brought a sleeping bag, as advised earlier, and Biba loaned me a blow-up mattress. But too tired for anything other than trying to get some rest, I just slipped the flat mattress beneath my sleeping bag on the wooden seat in the cockpit, and tossed and turned all night.
The next day, my first full day aboard, started with light rain, but soon cleared. We had talked earlier about staying in San Bernadetto de Tonto for another day since the marina was so convenient to the heart of the city and there was no docking fee. We also decided to explore an ancient fortress built on top of a tall hill nearby. So we boarded a bus with our cameras and after a short 20-minute ride were at the base of a 12th century fort, still being restored. From the walls at the top of the fort we could see the city below, and almost make out our sailboat in the harbor.
That night we had another light rain, and with it the inevitable charge that I brought it with me. But morning sun seemed to shake off the rain, so we motored out of the harbor and I got my first experience of sailing in the Med.
The water was cold. I had checked on the Internet before I left and learned it was only in the upper 50s in that part of the Adriatic. That’s cold! Air temperatures were around 60. We had a light breeze that morning and sailed eastward for a mile or two. Then the skipper set sail, using a portable GPS unit and the compass on his helm, for a course generally southward.
Throughout the week’s sailing, we were always within easy eyesight of the coast. We passed towns and small cities. From time to time, we caught sight of highway bridges spanning deep valleys where rivers flowed from the nearby mountains.
Except when clouds covered them, all through the trip we saw a magnificent line of mountains, some close to 9,000 feet high. On some the top third was covered with snow. So the views toward the coast and the mountains were gorgeous. Snow on the mountains and us in shorts on the sailboat: quite a contrast. Often I wore a sweatshirt while underway because of the constant cool breeze. We rarely were without decent sailing winds and we never had high winds.
I tried my hand at the helm a few times but had trouble making the change from using a tiller to using a helm. Everything is the opposite. So after getting us in trouble one time and hearing the skipper yell at me, I decided to leave it to the experts. I did handle the lines and the anchor when they needed some help.
I was on-board very early in the season. During the height of the travel season, in the summer, college students, and other adventurers were aboard. Sometimes 6 to 8 crew (plus Dave and Biba) would squeeze into that little boat. I couldn’t have handled the boisterous crowd. Last summer, the skipper told me, the boat was almost sunk three times by crew who didn’t close the toilet properly, letting seawater rise up into the head and cabin. So….the skipper just took the toilet out! No toilet. And with it, no shower. The rest I’ll leave to your imagination or a private conversation.
Halfway through my week aboard, we prepared to greet two more guests or crew members. They were a young couple, probably in their twenties, from Toronto. Their trip from Rome across Italy brought them to our boat in the middle of the night. We were anchored that night out in a harbor, a hundred yards from shore. So getting to and from the boat meant sliding a dinghy off its space on top of the sailboat and into the water. The dinghy was oar-powered. A little after 1am Kienan boarded the dinghy and rowed ashore. The couple was relieved to finally come aboard, obviously not too keen about making their way, with heavy backpacks, from the train station to the dock in unfamiliar territory—and after midnight. Now with six of us aboard, plus the toddler, we were crowded. Dave slept outside in the cockpit. The gal and Biba shared the forward cabin. The guy and I were in the main cabin.
The next day we all went into the nearby town looking for a cybercafé so we could send and pick up our emails. I wandered around and found none. Hours later, after I returned to the boat and when I was the only one aboard, I heard a call from the dock. The two Canadians were yelling at me, asking me to pick them up in the dinghy. I rowed in and picked them up. When we got back on the boat, they began to pack up and then sheepishly told me they decided to move on to the next stop on their trip, a city a bit further south where they said some of their friends had just arrived. They left a nice note for Dave and Biba, saying thanks, but they decided to join their friends. We decided that the lack of a toilet was the reason.
We sailed for a couple more days; always well within sight of the shore and the snow-capped mountains. On one occasion, as we were sailing under a bright sun at a leisurely pace, Biba put a Vivaldi CD on the player and passed around wine. We toasted the beautiful day and the awesome sailing and just relaxed, watching the coast slip by slowly to the west.
The last day aboard we enjoyed the most brisk winds of my sailing. Using the GPS unit, Biba clocked us at 8 and 9 knots at various times. That day we also saw a tall ship under full sail, probably a training vessel for the Italian navy or coast guard.
When my week aboard was over, I put my clothes in my small day-pack, rolled up my sleeping bag and left Clizia. After a short walk to the top of the hill, and stopping by a convenience store for directions, I caught a city bus into town then took another bus to the train station. I bought a ticket to La Spezia, a city on the other side of Italy and much further north to start the last half of my visit to Italy. Shortly before dark I was aboard a night train to Bologna and northern Italy and my sailing trip was, regretfully, over.
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So in early May 2005, I flew to Amsterdam, then boarded a small airplane for Rome. After an overnight in Rome, I took a four-hour bus ride to the opposite coast of Italy, to the resort city of San Bernadetto de Tonto. I arrived with a bad sinus infection, caused probably from the stale air in the puddle jumper airplane from Amsterdam.
Before leaving home I emailed the skipper several times, first of my interest, then about my concern that I’d be out of my element if the boat was full of young folks. He wrote back, not to worry, that he was over the hill himself. I got his cell phone number (yep…they are everywhere—even out in the Med) so I could call and arrange to meet when I reached the eastern coast of Italy.
When I got to San Bernadetto de Tonto and phoned, the skipper’s girl friend answered. They were in town visiting the markets, stocking up on food for the day and the next. With no refrigeration on-board, just a small cooler that didn’t hold ice long, each day required a shopping trip into town to find a market. So for lunch and dinner on-board Clizia we were treated with fresh vegetables and meat from the market in the village or town near where we were moored for the night.
The Clizia is a small sailboat! I’ve spend a weekend on Cousin Jan McCormack’s 32 footer when she was docked in San Diego about four years ago. Mason and I spent a couple nights on-board with Jan. But this was different. The Clizia was a full-time live aboard boat for the skipper, his girl friend, Biba and their two-year old boy. They used the forward sleeping cabin. In the main cabin on the starboard side was a bunk that could be extended to create a double. On the port side was a single bunk. Also in the cabin was a small stove top, a microwave oven and a mini-sink. In bad weather when eating in the cabin was preferred to outside in the cockpit, a folding table was placed between the two bunks.
I brought rain. That afternoon and through most of the night, we endured light showers. A rain cover was placed over the cockpit, allowing the skipper to use the helm without getting wet. The cockpit was also the sleeping overflow area.
Only one other person was on-board when I got there--a former Navy Seal from out west, in his early 30s, who said he was bumming around the world after a catastrophic parachuting exercise. He was on disability from a broken back and hip, but actually appeared no worse for the fall. He was an interesting guy who enlivened the boat with his salty attitude. When I came aboard he set out trying to make sure I knew what a devil-may-care character he was. He had boarded about three weeks earlier just north of Venice and planned to stay all summer, leaving sometime in August. The skipper, Dave, and he (I think his name was Kienan) had bonded well in the meantime and the young fellow had quickly become a valuable crew who needed no prodding when something had to be done. As the week wore on, he shook off his attitude and turned out to be a decent guy; Biba, Dave’s girl friend of five years and he got along famously, and he appeared more like Dave’s son than a crew member
Skipper Dave was a former musician from Ohio who traveled the states playing gigs in many of the major cities. He then moved to Europe and yet more traveling from city to city. He said he got tired of being thrown around by agents and after a few years on the continent, found Clizia, slowly restored her and began the odyssey that continues today. He plans to relocate to the Caribbean in a year or two with the help of his parents who want to spend more time with their new grandson.
Biba was a sweetheart. Tall, slender and from Latvia, one of the former states of the Soviet Union, she was the linguist in the group. In addition to Latvian and Russian, she spoke English (very well) and Turkish. She had picked up enough Italian to browse through the local markets with no trouble at all. She was only 35, about 15 years younger than Dave. Biba could do anything, it seems. No matter what sailing chore popped up, she knew how to respond, and moved decisively. She made me feel at home and treated me more like family than a guest.
The first night, with a light rain, and me with a bad sinus infection, was not a good one. The sinus infection had stolen my sleep the night before, so I was pooped when dark came. Sailors, of course, stay up late so while wine flowed and conversation hummed among Biba, Dave and Kienan in the cabin, I excused myself and tried to find a comfortable position in the cockpit, under the rain cover. I brought a sleeping bag, as advised earlier, and Biba loaned me a blow-up mattress. But too tired for anything other than trying to get some rest, I just slipped the flat mattress beneath my sleeping bag on the wooden seat in the cockpit, and tossed and turned all night.
The next day, my first full day aboard, started with light rain, but soon cleared. We had talked earlier about staying in San Bernadetto de Tonto for another day since the marina was so convenient to the heart of the city and there was no docking fee. We also decided to explore an ancient fortress built on top of a tall hill nearby. So we boarded a bus with our cameras and after a short 20-minute ride were at the base of a 12th century fort, still being restored. From the walls at the top of the fort we could see the city below, and almost make out our sailboat in the harbor.
That night we had another light rain, and with it the inevitable charge that I brought it with me. But morning sun seemed to shake off the rain, so we motored out of the harbor and I got my first experience of sailing in the Med.
The water was cold. I had checked on the Internet before I left and learned it was only in the upper 50s in that part of the Adriatic. That’s cold! Air temperatures were around 60. We had a light breeze that morning and sailed eastward for a mile or two. Then the skipper set sail, using a portable GPS unit and the compass on his helm, for a course generally southward.
Throughout the week’s sailing, we were always within easy eyesight of the coast. We passed towns and small cities. From time to time, we caught sight of highway bridges spanning deep valleys where rivers flowed from the nearby mountains.
Except when clouds covered them, all through the trip we saw a magnificent line of mountains, some close to 9,000 feet high. On some the top third was covered with snow. So the views toward the coast and the mountains were gorgeous. Snow on the mountains and us in shorts on the sailboat: quite a contrast. Often I wore a sweatshirt while underway because of the constant cool breeze. We rarely were without decent sailing winds and we never had high winds.
I tried my hand at the helm a few times but had trouble making the change from using a tiller to using a helm. Everything is the opposite. So after getting us in trouble one time and hearing the skipper yell at me, I decided to leave it to the experts. I did handle the lines and the anchor when they needed some help.
I was on-board very early in the season. During the height of the travel season, in the summer, college students, and other adventurers were aboard. Sometimes 6 to 8 crew (plus Dave and Biba) would squeeze into that little boat. I couldn’t have handled the boisterous crowd. Last summer, the skipper told me, the boat was almost sunk three times by crew who didn’t close the toilet properly, letting seawater rise up into the head and cabin. So….the skipper just took the toilet out! No toilet. And with it, no shower. The rest I’ll leave to your imagination or a private conversation.
Halfway through my week aboard, we prepared to greet two more guests or crew members. They were a young couple, probably in their twenties, from Toronto. Their trip from Rome across Italy brought them to our boat in the middle of the night. We were anchored that night out in a harbor, a hundred yards from shore. So getting to and from the boat meant sliding a dinghy off its space on top of the sailboat and into the water. The dinghy was oar-powered. A little after 1am Kienan boarded the dinghy and rowed ashore. The couple was relieved to finally come aboard, obviously not too keen about making their way, with heavy backpacks, from the train station to the dock in unfamiliar territory—and after midnight. Now with six of us aboard, plus the toddler, we were crowded. Dave slept outside in the cockpit. The gal and Biba shared the forward cabin. The guy and I were in the main cabin.
The next day we all went into the nearby town looking for a cybercafé so we could send and pick up our emails. I wandered around and found none. Hours later, after I returned to the boat and when I was the only one aboard, I heard a call from the dock. The two Canadians were yelling at me, asking me to pick them up in the dinghy. I rowed in and picked them up. When we got back on the boat, they began to pack up and then sheepishly told me they decided to move on to the next stop on their trip, a city a bit further south where they said some of their friends had just arrived. They left a nice note for Dave and Biba, saying thanks, but they decided to join their friends. We decided that the lack of a toilet was the reason.
We sailed for a couple more days; always well within sight of the shore and the snow-capped mountains. On one occasion, as we were sailing under a bright sun at a leisurely pace, Biba put a Vivaldi CD on the player and passed around wine. We toasted the beautiful day and the awesome sailing and just relaxed, watching the coast slip by slowly to the west.
The last day aboard we enjoyed the most brisk winds of my sailing. Using the GPS unit, Biba clocked us at 8 and 9 knots at various times. That day we also saw a tall ship under full sail, probably a training vessel for the Italian navy or coast guard.
When my week aboard was over, I put my clothes in my small day-pack, rolled up my sleeping bag and left Clizia. After a short walk to the top of the hill, and stopping by a convenience store for directions, I caught a city bus into town then took another bus to the train station. I bought a ticket to La Spezia, a city on the other side of Italy and much further north to start the last half of my visit to Italy. Shortly before dark I was aboard a night train to Bologna and northern Italy and my sailing trip was, regretfully, over.
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