Overall Route This web page describes a portion of a 7 week trip with S/Y Thetis in 1996 from Greece to Malta, Sardinia, Ustica and Calabria in Italy, and back to Greece. The portion described is the solo passage from Reggio Calabria, Italy to Fiskardo in Cephalonia, Greece. It is illustrated with maps and photographs, also included are some historical and geographical descriptions of the places visited as well as several links to other related web sites.
I got up early to listen to the Italian weather broadcast. Force 7 SE for the next 12 hours, decreasing, with occasional showers. It is looking better. Maybe I can leave later today but I will wait and see. I hang the wet laundry to dry and finish with the wiring labels. I then clean again the fuel pre-filter. The fuel coming out is clean and without water. I run the engine for 10 minutes and then for 10 more at high RPM. It behaves normally. I get another weather report from the VHF. It sounds reasonable, as reasonable as recent weather can be. I tentatively plan to leave later today.
I walk to town for last minute shopping. On the way back I speak to the German boat that has Navtex. They also got a forecast from the German weather service. According to them the wind will decrease a lot, starting tomorrow. So, I think I must go today to be able to sail at least part way and not risk running out of fuel. The only problem are the damn "temporali" (thunderstorms). I pay the harbor dues, 87,000 lira. I call Pitsa who also has a weather report confirming what I already have learned. I then call Alice and tell her that I am leaving.
On board I gather the laundry and prepare to depart. Cornelius helps me with the lines and the passarella and I depart at 2:30 PM for Cephalonia. About 10 nmi south of Reggio we get drenched by a very strong shower. The winds are from all directions but no stronger than 18 knots. I keep rolling in and out the genoa and trimming the main just to keep up with them. I also alternate between motoring and sailing. The motor behaves very well. Finally we are out of the Messina channel and turn east, the wind is a little more steady so we mostly sail. There are very heavy clouds over Sicily. I see Mt. Aetna towering over the clouds. This is at 3,323 m (10,902 ft) the tallest mountain of the Mediterranean.
Night falls and I can see lightning from almost every direction. As we are approaching Cape Spartivento, the last point of Calabria on our course, the wind increases a little to better than 14 knots SW and from 10:30 on we are sailing at a reasonable speed. Around midnight at the Cape a fishing boat with many high intensity lights comes straight at us at high speed. I change course as he overpasses us. Few minutes later he changes course and comes back again. I dodge him once more. I am glad to be leaving land behind us so that I can go to sleep.
Finally we are far away from land and no boats are visible. I go to sleep and get up every 20 minutes to check for traffic. No problems other than the distant lightning flashes. At 02:00 the wind dies out and I have to crank up the engine.
The day is totally uneventful. Hardly any wind, most of the time we are motoring, every so often there is a puff and we motor-sail. I run the engine at reduced RPM in order to conserve fuel but at this rate it will be unavoidable that I will have to siphon fuel while under way. In the morning there is strong sunshine but in the afternoon the clouds roll in. I hope there will be no thunderstorms tonight.
We cross the half way point to Cephalonia. Reflecting on the passage through the Messina Strait, it was indeed frightful. Had I known what it would be like, I would never have crossed it all by myself. I cannot help but remember that the last and only other time that I had crossed it I was a student bound for the first time towards the U.S. Little did I know then that I would one day return, in the opposite direction, sailing my own sail boat.
In the evening, the sun just went down in a spectacular display of colors. We are still motoring. A little bird, a swallow I think, has been circling Thetis for some time now. Occasionally he lands on the rigging high up. As he is getting chilly I retreat into the cabin, soon the bird flies right in and lands on top of the radar screen! After observing me for a while he takes off and flies out again. He spends the next couple of hours flying in and out of the cabin. The wind picks up a little, so I set the sails and turn off the engine. We are now doing 7 knots, under sail and it is getting very dark with lightning flashes everywhere again. The little bird flies in again and perches on the curtains. Maybe he intends to spend the night here. He stays, perched on the curtain for over an hour. But, as I start cooking I must have scared him and he flies out and lands inside the cockpit. An hour later he was still there, but when I went out to reduce the sail around 10:00 he was gone.
Around 1:00 AM the wind dies out, and I start the engine again. Immediately the engine sputters and loses RPM. I clean the pre-filter and the engine works well for about 1/2 hour, then it loses RPM, picks up speed, loses speed, and sometimes it stops. This intermittent behavior is only when I run it at reduced RPM. If I increase the RPM it stalls completely. In the meantime it starts to rain and lightning strikes are everywhere, some nearby. To my amazement I can see the storms quite well on the radar and I can avoid them. All of this while there is no wind at all. So on we move slowly all night, 20 minute naps, check the horizon and radar, avoid clouds, and back to sleep. All hatches and the companion way are closed to keep the rain out of the cabin.
At daybreak, after my coffee, I siphon fuel from the jerry cans to the tank on the not so solid theory that maybe I have had bad fuel and by diluting it, the engine will suffer less. After that ordeal, there is no improvement of course. Once again I dismantle and clean the pre-filter and the engine now stalls even more frequently. The working RPM is now down to 1500 (normally we cruise at 2600) which moves the boat at most with 4 knots. There is zero wind and we are bathed in sunshine. Absolutely no trace of last night's clouds.
We are now only 45 nmi from Cephalonia, but I cannot say that I am sure we will make it with the engine. I do hope for some wind. When we are approximately 36 nmi away from Cephalonia land is sighted. Unfortunately together with the land came the clouds again. They are dark cumulus clouds laden with rain. First I see at same distance a vortex from a cloud to the sea. Could this be the dreaded water spout? Heikell does mention that this part of the Ionian has them in late October and November. Later I see a storm cloud and after checking with the radar I verify that we are on a collision course. It is 8 nmi away so I change course. Our closest approach is about 1 nmi. As we cross paths with it I see a vortex forming and within a few minutes it reaches the sea. I look at it with the binoculars, sure enough I can easily see the water circulating and rising towards the cloud. It is a waterspout, no doubt at all. I run for the camera and photograph it. This is the closest that I ever want to be to one of them, fascinating as they are.
![[Photo of a water spout near
Cephalonia]](Photos/WaterSp.jpg)
Now there is a small amount of wind so I cautiously raise the sails, as I am still petrified by the water spouts. The sails give some relief to the tired engine and together they push us towards the land, ever so slowly. I do hope that the the weather in the channel between Ithake and Cephalonia is not too fierce. I now seem to get good reception on the VHF and I hear Hellas Radio on channel 16 so I hail them and place a call to Pitsa and ask her to find Nikos so that he can get me a replacement fuel filter. I am sure that this is what is wrong with the engine. I also ask if he could locate, through his contacts, a reputable Diesel mechanic. I am not sure if dear Pitsa got all of these but I told her that I will be listening on channel 16 so that Nikos could call me. Sure enough, 2 hours later Hellas Radio is hailing the yacht Thetis. This is the first time that I have received a call via the VHF. After some confusion we are connected. Nikos has located the filter and he will send it to Cephalonia with Olympic Airways tonight, so I am sure to have it by tomorrow. He will look for a mechanic. Thank goodness for modern communications!
We are now 22 nmi from Fiskárdo and 34 nmi from Ayia Efimia. I am not sure where I want to go. I prefer Ayia Efimia which has fuel facilities and is closer to the airport and, in addition, one can anchor off-shore which in my case is much easier. On the other hand Fiskárdo is much closer and it is getting late and we are moving at a very slow speed. As we get closer to the island, the visibility is excellent, I can clearly see Lefkas, Cephalonia, Ithake, and the mainland. It is 6:00 PM, and very calm with almost no wind. I make up my mind to try for Fiskárdo. Heikell says that you can anchor off-shore and take a line ashore to a rock on the north side of the cove.
It is almost 10:00 PM when I enter the cove of Fiskárdo. I have not dropped the anchor since Malta, as a result the chain has been tossed around in the locker and does not come out freely. This makes for a less than perfect anchoring. Being tired I do not raise the anchor and re-anchor as I should. I am lulled into complaisance by the mirror calm sea. I assemble the zodiac, blessing Lewis for repairing the electric pump. I take the line ashore and all is well. The town is named after a famous French pirate who was a one time king of Sicily and who died here, named Guiscard, Giskardo in Italian, which was then corrupted into Greek as Fiskárdo.
I go with the zodiac to the picturesque little town and make phone calls to Pitsa and Nikos, who has already send the filter but has not located a mechanic. I have a bite to eat in an outdoor restaurant right on the harbor. I then try to call Alice but the phone does not work for overseas calls. Tired but pleased with myself I drive the zodiac back to Thetis and sleep.
Thursday, August 11, 2005