Diary for Stevie P sails to the Americas


10 things to do in Luton Airport departure lounge

2009-09-05 to 2009-09-06

After months of preparation (of sorts) and years of dreaming, today I'm setting off on my adventure. Although it's a bit of a false start as I'll be back again in 2 weeks.

This is the warm-up, the prologue, the pre-season friendly of adventures, to test my mettle before I set off for good. Tomorrow I'll be meeting Roger, the owner and skipper of Vittoria, the 40ft yacht that will be my home for three weeks as we sail across the Atlantic later in the year. but for the next two weeks we will be sailing from the west coast of Greece via Malta to Tunisia. It should be 10 days or so plain sailing across the calm waters of the Mediterranean, but it should prepare me for the far more challenging Atlantic crossing in a couple of months time.

I just hope that Roger, who I've only spoken to once, and given a substantial sum of money to as a contribution to on-board provisions, is legit. Otherwise I'll be back much sooner than planned. We shall see...

Right now I'm in the departures lounge of Luton airport, waiting for my delayed flight to Athens. If you are ever in the same situation, here are my suggestions:

1. Write your travel blog

2. Wander the aisles of whsmith. Consider buying an overpriced bag of sweets.

3. Play boarding gate bingo

4. Join your fellow Brits for a cold lager (or 5) from the wetherspoons.

5. Waste some money in the amusement arcade

6. Buy some duty free ciggies for later profiteering with friends back home.

7. Try to guess the nationality of your travelling companions, and what fligt they're on.

8. Enter the raffle for the lambourghini that has somehow been parke in the middle of the departure lounge.

9. Attempt to get in to a restricted area and ideally on to the runway.

10. Leave your bag unattended and see if they evacuate the terminal to do a controlled explosion.


The tale of the skipper, the cabin boy, and the prostitute

2009-09-06

I arrived in Athens in the very early hours of Sunday morning, with a few hours to kill. I dropped my bag at the hotel where I would later meet the rest of the crew and started exploring the city. 

I had wandered round the main tourist attractions - the parthenon and the acropolis - on a previous visit, so I decided to check out the National Historical Museum instead. En route, I stumbled across a flea market, where the locals would dump anything they no longer wanted on the street for anyone else to forage through. Old shoes, cassette players, mobile phone chargers, all sorts of bric-a-brac. 

Cutting through the back streets to find this museum, I was surprised to be stopped in my tracks by a lady of the night (or in this case, early morning) who offered to "give me anything I wanted". And more, I bet. It being half past eight in the morning (a little bit too early for me), I politely declined and continued on. 

I find Athens is not a brilliant tourist destination, it is somewhat let down by pollution, graffiti, men pissing in the streets, and general lack of attractiveness, despite its historical significance and the cultural legacy of the ancient Greeks.  

 

The museum was pretty small, and had some interesting artefacts from Greece's more recent history, including civil wars and conflicts with Turkey. Still with a couple of hpurs to spare, I then headed for the acropolis museum, newly opened since my previous visit. Decent value for 1 euro, but I felt it was lacking in detail about ancient Greek mythology and way of life. Lots of statues though. Good for statues. 

I met Roger the skipper (obviously promoted from cabin boy since the days of Pugwash), his wife Estelle, and my fellow crew, Margaret and Rado, for lunch. After a sandwich, a beer and a get-to-know-eachother chat, we set off on a 4hr taxi ride to Roger's boat, Vittoria. 

Roger is in his 60s, a fellow west-country lad, who spends much of his time now sailing Vittoria around the world. He is pretty down-to-earth, easy going and good humoured. I could tell we'd get along fine on our passage to Tunisia and later across the Atlantic (touch wood).

I'd say Margaret is also in her 60s, a convent-educated spinster from Dublin and Rado is in his 50s, orinally from Slovenia, but lives in Wimbledon. I'm sure we'll learn a lot more about each other over the next two weeks.        


Here, there be beasties (small, flying, bloodthirsty ones)

2009-09-07 to 2009-09-16

For those that are interested, Vittoria is a 12m (40ft) long-keeled ketch. This makes it a very solid and stable yacht, very suitable for cruising (as opposed to racing). Roger, who has owned her for 20 years, has her well kitted out - we have GPS, an electronic plotter, a shower than is better than the one at home, wind steering (detects changes in the wind and changes course appropriately) and even an autopilot!

Katakolon, where we joined Vittoria just over a week ago now, is the closest port to Olympia (which I'm sure I don't need to tell you is the site of the original Olympic Games). Therefore, the small port exists solely as a disembarcation point for passing cruise ships to allow their wealthy tourists to board coaches up to the site. We opted not to visit, but to stay in the village and sample the tacky souvenir shops and authentic Greek cuisine.

The following morning, we made the short passage to Zakinthos, where we anchored in a bay to the south of the island, and were introduced to Roger's culinary skills.

Roger is a pretty relaxed skipper - he's easy going and good humoured, enjoys his food, beer and wine, including (and perhaps especially) during passages, which is pretty much all you could ask for. As a bonus, he won't let anyone else cook. Margaret has similarly given herself the role of washing-up, so I feel very priveleged as I'm waited on hand and foot.

After breakfast, we set across the Ionian, heading for Italy. After 30 hours of pretty rough sea conditions and wind on the nose, we arrived in Crotone, situated on the ball of Italy's foot - the bunion of Italy, if you like. When we arrive in a new port, I take the first opportunity to disembark to explore. I love aimlessly wandering around these places, taking in the vibes of each. I have become particularly good at finding free WiFi hotspots - a skill that should come in useful for my future travels.

Although the town was a bit run down, it was a pleasant fishing port and I had an excellent seafood risotto in a local restaurant. In the morning, I awoke covered from head to toe with 30-odd mosquito bites. The little bastard had left the rest of the crew unharmed, although Roger did report that he splatted a rather fat and satisfied mozzie on his watch during the night.

From Crotone, we headed south west towards Riposto, a seaside town on the East coast of Sicily, ominously overlooked by Mount Etna. During the passage, we were joined by a school of dolphins (footage to be online shortly). After the 24hr passage, we arrived in Riposto mid-afternoon. I found it to be a charming and genuine Sicilian port, with a frienly population catering for a growing tourist population. The newly constructed marina was dominated by an enourmous yacht (name escapes me now) who's well-dressed crew seemed to be waiting for the fabulously wealthy owner. However, as the sun went down, we were slightly taken aback as a minibus full of bikini models arrived. I half expected Burlusconi himself to turn up next for one of his infamous parties, but alas, he didn't. We never found out exactly what was going on, whether it was a regular occurrence, or whether we were invited to the party. Probably not.

The yacht was gone in the morning. That afternoon, after getting provisions for our next passage, we set sail for another overnight passage to Malta. We operate a two hour watch rotation, so 2hrs on, 6hrs off, and the two hours you're on watch pass by very quickly, making it pretty easy sailing. Generally, I have the 20:00-22:00, 04:00-06:00 and 12:00-14:00 wathces. My favourite is actually the 4am watch, where you're alone on deck. I plug in my iPod, set the sails, gaze at the stars, and avoid any big ships that are in the way.

The capital of Malta, Valetta is a very pretty old city, with grand architecture which suggests an affluent past, and it's important role during the two world wars is well evident. Today though, the island is very densely populated and reportedly very poor. However, we had luxury treatment, as a future crew member had booked us in to his hotel's private marina. We were allowed to use the hotel facilities, including the pool, and even our rubbish was taken away for us by house-keeping. I would like to re-visit Malta at some point as there is a great deal to explore which our schedule did not allow.

Again, an overnight passage has now taken us to Lampedusa, a small Italian island between Malta and North Africa. It can only be reached by ferry and a light plane service from Italy, and it seems to be a place where Italians tend to go for a holiday. Although there is a resident population of only 4,000, there is a large, vibrant town which obviously caters for an influx in holiday-makers, from where I am writing.

This afternoon we make our final passage on this trip, to Port el Kantoui, on the East Coast of Tunisia. This will be my first experience of North Africa, and will conclude the first leg of my travels.


A storm is brewing

2009-09-16 to 2009-09-21

Luckily, or perhaps by design, none of our passages have required an early morning start. Thankfully, this allows for a lie-in and/or a morning of exploring before setting sail mid-afternoon. So having spent a bit of time writing my previous post in what appeared to be the only internet café on Lampedusa, I wandered round the local market and purchased some much needed fresh underwear (I was yet to come across a laundrette and the 34°+ heat was not helping matters). Much better.

So we left Lampedusa at around 14:00, and headed west towards the Tunisian mainland, unfortunately again under motor as there was barely a breath of wind. That evening just after dinner of (very nice) reheated pizza and salad, we were treated to a fantastic light show - an electrical storm at some distance of our starboard bow (see pics). This is not an uncommon sight - we had seen them from a distance on previous passages, but not at this magnitude, duration or intensity; the forked lightning lighting up the otherwise pitch-black landscape. There was no sound of thunder, and therefore we assumed it was quite a way off (remembering that your distance from the storm can be measured as the time between lightning flashes and thunder claps).

It was coming to the end of my watch - and the centre of the electrical storm was slowly coming round from being on our starboard bow to more on the beam (i.e. to our side), meaning that it was much closer than we had thought and that we were about to pass it. Looking directly up, what had been a clear, starry sky had turned in to thick, ominous cloud. We were just about to pass through the side of the storm. Almost instantly, the wind picked up from being 3-4 knots (effectively nothing considering we were going 6 through the water) to 25-30 knots on the nose (force 7 and too strong to sail). So it was time to quickly close the hatches and take down the sails that we had speculatively raised in case the wind picked up. The next few hours were spent crashing through waves - not much sleep was had. However, the weather passed and we were able to make good progress. We arrived in Port El Kantoui, just north of Sousse, in the early morning.

El Kantoui is a purpose built holiday resort on the East coast of Tunisia - the kind of place Thomson might sell you a package holiday. There are golden sandy beaches where you can go paragliding, hire pedalos and generally soak up the sun. It was good just to top up the tan, and relax for a day or so before parting company with Roger, Margaret and Rado.

After packing our bags (during the storm, mine had decided to unpack itself and throw its contents across the cabin) and giving Vittoria a good clean above and below decks, Rado, Roger and I got in a taxi to Tunis - they had a plane to catch whereas I had booked a night in the capital. Margaret had decided to stay on in El Kantoui for a couple of days.

I had thought the hotel I had booked was close to the airport, and was walking distance to tourist attractions such as the ruins of ancient Carthage. Unfortunately, it was a good 20 mins taxi ride to both. I also only checked in at 4pm, by which time the sun was setting and most places were closed or closing. It being Ramadan, there was not much going on in the city as everyone was in their homes waiting for sundown to break fast. The hotel I had booked also seemed to be a package tour destination - a big pool and close to the beach, but nothing around the hotel to speak of. So after a beer in the hotel bar, I retired to my room and decided to make the most of the following day.

After a decent buffet breakfast, I ordered a taxi to take me to the Carthage Museum. A pretty straightforward request. The taxi driver, obviously thought he spotted a naive tourist, and tried to convince me I wanted a 3hr tour around the entire city for 50 euro.
"No thanks. Just the museum." I insisted.
"I take you to Carthage, Sidi Bousaid, La Marsa, and Airport. 40 euro."
"No thanks. Just the museum."
"I have a wife and four children to feed."
"Well, get a better paid job then." I thought to myself.
As it was raining, and I had my rather large pack with me, and wanted to see as much as possible in a short space of time, he managed to talk me round, but only after we had negotiated a price of 30 euro.

So he took me round a few of the sights, Sidi Bousaid (a very pretty suburb overlooking both the Mediterranean and the city of Tunis), the President's house, the museum, finally dropping me off at the airport. I don't really whether I was getting a good deal or he was ripping me off, but I definitely got the impression it was more towards the latter.

Stepping out of the taxi, my bag, without asking, was loaded on to a trolley and taken to my check-in desk. At last, some decent service. Or so I thought. The porter demanded a euro for pushing my bag 15 metres on a trolley. It left me livid, and thinking that everyone in Tunisia was out to milk every last tourist dollar and cent out of you. They managed quite well with me - I could barely afford a coffee in the departure lounge. To be honest, Tunisia is not somewhere I'd rush to visit again.

So, the first leg of my adventure was over, and I was returning to the UK for a few weeks before rejoining Vittoria, Roger, and three new crew members for the trade wind passage across the Atlantic. This Mediterranean passage has been good preparation, and has taught me a good few lessons:


So in conclusion, a couple of weeks sailing round the Med was really enjoyable, as you might expect. Four different countries in 14 days and a pleasant mixture of sun, sea, and sailing, is an ideal break. Although it's not fully representative of an Atlantic crossing - it's good enough preparation. And all for just a couple of cheap flights and a small contribution to food on board. Perfect.


A change of tack

2009-10-23

Dear readers of my travel blog,

I have decided to switch sites for my online travel journal. This will make it easier for me to write and upload photos while I'm on the road, which I can now do directly from my iPhone. Cool eh?

So if you want to continue hearing about my wonderful adventures, please go to http://steviep.ontheroad.to, where you can read, subscribe, comment, and many more amazing things.

Hope to see you there soon...

Steve