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"There's always a plan, but unexpected things happen and we just go with the flow. Though I do believe that fate and destiny often play their part"
sailing blog
Time to end eight happy months in Malta.
Time to bid a fond farewell to old friends and new. Time to reflect on amazing days spent with amazing people. Time to go home and be with family. Cheers…we'll be back in the UK in the morning.
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Friday night Jane held a drinks party. This included a spread of exotic food enough to feed a small army. Got to bed at about 1am.
Saturday night we went to dinner at a friends house. There was enough exotic food dished up to feed a small nation. Got to bed about 2am. Sunday morning I felt like doing a web search for a detox sanctuary that offered a diet of just mint tea and half a lettuce leaf….on alternate days only. The other day I would be happy with nothing more than solitary confinement in a darkened room. The girls, however, had another idea…"why don't we go to the annual Christmas Fayre at the Palazzo Pariso" in nearby Naxxar (pronounced Nashar). Oh great….that's just what I needed. Wandering around endless stalls selling Xmas tat with annoying Christmas jingles playing in the background attempting to create some sort of artificial festive spirit. "It's still bloody November" I said!!! Being outnumbered by two to one we set off late morning in brilliant sunshine and a remarkable temperature of 25 degrees. When we got there I must admit I was pleasantly surprised. This was my kind of Christmas Fayre. At most there were four stalls selling quite tasteful handmade decorations. The rest of the place was open to the public allowing us to wander around the grand Baroque salons and enjoy the large well manicured gardens. It was hard to believe that this was once somebody's house, although you find quite a few Palazzo's around Malta proving that some seriously wealthy people lived here in the middle ages. So, despite my "bah humbug" beginning to the day, it turned out to be a very pleasant and relaxing afternoon. And, we learnt that this rather stunning "palace" is owned by someone we once had dinner with many moons ago in Gozo. That's another story for another day. Some ventures out on the boat become epic for all sorts of reasons. Yesterday happened to be one of those days.
The news about my dad, and seeing him in a hospice during my quick trip back to the UK, made the past week a bit of an emotional one. Feeling slightly sad that this would probably be our last sail of the season also contributed to a general feeling that we just wanted to get away on our own and lose ourselves out at sea. The sun shone brightly; the air was still and warm; the clear turquoise sea was calm and inviting. You couldn't wish for a better day to be on a boat in the Mediterranean……in November would you believe! Before setting sail, we picked up a chicken from a rotisserie, some salad and a bottle of chilled wine. To be honest we didn't go that far, just a gentle hop along the coast to Spinola Bay (St Julians), where we dropped anchor in the middle and spent a lazy day lying in the cockpit quietly soaking up the rays. Although we were only a few hundred yards off-shore, it seemed like a million miles. Our picnic lunch somehow tasted extra special and the siesta that followed was more than welcome, particularly after the vino. It was mid afternoon when the anchor came up and we motored back to the marina with the sun still bright in the sky. However, as we tidied up the light faded and by five o'clock it was dark. Yes, looking back on it, yesterday was certainly an epic day. I got an e-mail last week to say could I please ring home - urgently. You make a call like that with a degree of apprehension, and, as it turned out, not without reason.
A few minutes after the conversation ended I was on the Ryanair website seeing how quickly I could get a flight back to the UK. One of the advantages of being in Malta is there are still daily flights, even though the tourist season is over. My trip lasted four days. It was bitter sweet. Extremely sad that my Dad (93) is now entering the final chapter of his life but, as always, a real pleasure to spend some time with the kids. Tough times ahead. As I pulled open the blinds this morning the sky looked like a raging inferno about to explode at any moment. For a split second I thought I might have died and gone to hell. Have I really done enough bad things in my life to deserve such an end ?…answers on a post card please. With my trusty little "snap and hope for the best" camera I took some pics, although the vivid colours and the intensity of the contrasts don't really come across that well. As ever, click on the images for the full size version. The pics aren't too shoddy I suppose, but I'm not banking on landing a job as a highly paid international photographer any time soon. Instead, I've turned my talents to a different money making scheme…sun dried chillies. Having said that, it's clear to me that I might need to up production by at least a million percent if I want a new boat out of the proceeds!
Just over a week ago we were sailing in glorious sunshine and frolicking in the sea like excited little school kids. Not so this past week, oh no…frequent spells of thunder, lightening and showers made sure of that, although in-between the rain it has still been quite hot.
I mention this because the extremes of weather we're experiencing, almost on an hourly basis, is causing havoc with everyone's wardrobe selection. Take our trip into Sliema this morning as an example. It rained a bit, then the sun shone. One minute the air was fresh and cool, then it was warm again. Some people were wearing jeans, big thick jumpers and scarves. Others had on hefty overcoats. Trendy high heeled boots seemed to be the order of the day for the females. Everyone with an eye for fashion, both men and women, were clearly using the current unpredictable weather conditions to launch their new autumn collections. Needless to say, all the people dressed up like this were Maltese. To them summer is long gone and they relish the opportunity to wear something different. Then you had the sports shorts and sandals brigade - some with white socks on. Tight t-shirts stretched to bursting point over enormous beer bellies completed the ensemble - and that was just the women - only kidding. You will have guessed by now that these were the Brits abroad. I'm afraid "style" isn't a word that sprung to mind. OK, maybe that's a bit harsh, but beach wear on a day like today did look a little bit out of place in downtown Sliema. As for me, I'd say I was somewhere in the middle; long sleeved shirt, proper shorts and flip flops…..it's always flip flops for me as a matter of principle. Putting on shoes again is a signal that the sailing season is over and the time has arrived to plan our return to the UK. Actually, that time has arrived. In truth, our flights are booked. This morning, I confirmed Comino's winter berth at Msida Marina. My jeans are hanging in the wardrobe together with a winter jacket ready for our departure. Some e-mail exchanges have even taken place to plan Christmas. And so being somewhere in the middle describes our current situation in more ways than one. We will sail again this year, hopefully to the Island of Comino, but one eye is also on our journey home. There's more fun to be had here and there's lots to look forward to in Blighty. I'll leave you with a shot I took from our roof top terrace this week. I never tire of watching the dawn of a new day. For the past couple of days the dreaded north-easterly (Gregale) wind has brought a really uncomfortable swell into Manoel Island Marina. So much so that the previous night we couldn't sleep, what with all the rolling around and creaking lines. It was like trying to kip in a washing machine……on spin cycle! Yesterday morning poor Nicki felt sea sick just pottering around the boat, which signalled the inevitable……get off onto dry land and get organised to avoid more of the same. From now on the the autumn and winter months will bring plenty of beautiful sailing days, but alas this 'orrible swell will also come and go too. We knew this situation would arise about now and therefore we've already been planning our next move. On Saturday night we celebrated our wedding anniversary at a rather swanky Lebanese restaurant. It was also an ideal opportunity to chat to Jane about plans for the coming months. In a nutshell, her daughter has gone to Uni in the UK leaving the penthouse apartment on her roof empty. It didn't take a genius to see that we could all help each other out a bit here, so, as of 1st October, we are her new tenants until the middle of December. Then we'll fly home just as Jess comes back for Christmas……perfik! Actually, we're already in-situ helping to get the place ship shape ready for our formal moving in later in the week. After a eagerly anticipated traditional Sunday lunch yesterday (the first in a long time), we went up onto the roof to watch the Red Arrows perform for the Malta Air Show. The highlight was a fly by with an Air Malta plane leading the salute….I didn't take the pic above, but this is what we saw. And what a wonderful sight it was too. The weather is on the change now with the horrible high humidity giving way to a more cool, crisp air. We find it very pleasant. Don't get me wrong, the shorts and flip flops haven't been substituted for more autumnal attire just yet. I think the time to unpack jeans and jumpers is around the beginning of November - I'll keep you posted. Nicki's trip to the UK turned into three weeks rather than two (courtesy of the NHS), but thankfully she returns to Malta tonight and I'll have a hug and chilled glass of vino ready to welcome her back. I wonder which one she's looking forward to most? Frankly, it seems like an eternity since she left and I'm keen to get back to some form of normality - sun, sea, sailing and somebody to play Canaster with. Yes, we've recently learnt how to play the game, although a slightly fierce competitive edge seems to be creeping in. I mentioned last time that the boat needed some maintenance doing and I'm pleased to report that I've not been entirely idle whilst on my lonesome. Most importantly the water heater works again, so no more boiling the kettle to wash up. Just about everything else is now sorted ready for some autumn sailing in the sunshine. For the past week I've been alone in Jane's house whilst she took her daughter to Uni in the UK. My job has been to look after the cats and make sure they were adequately fed and watered. From left to right meet Bounty, Chocky and Kitty, who are all still with us thank goodness due to my not inconsiderable dollops of TLC. I'd like to say a few words about humidity……we've all experienced it one way or another. However, this past week has been unbelievable with humidity levels up to 85%, plus searing heat on top just to make matters worse. The other day the thermometer on our pontoon read 48 degrees in open sunlight. What it means is every time you move an inch you instantly become drenched. If you do manual work, like I've done on the boat, you fill a two gallon bucket with sweat every two minutes. Never in my life have I experienced such unpleasant conditions. At night all you can do is lie down in front of a ruddy great big fan and hope you drop off before the sheets become wrining wet. Luckily, today the weather has changed slightly which means Nicki will return to a sticky Malta rather than a soaking Malta.
Another milestone was achieved during my solitary confinement. For the first time in 34 years of marriage I learnt how to use a washing machine. Careful instructions were given to me via a Skype call that took all of twenty seconds to convey. Can you believe it, decades of techno fear washed away (sorry for the pun) in an instant. Mind you, it's just as well what with all this humidity; Nicki would have smelt my clothes from 30,000 feet long before she lands at Luqua Airport. OK it's true…...most posts on here do include references to our social goings on and yes, you could be forgiven for thinking our life involves quite a lot of eating and drinking. However, in reality, this is not always the case……honest!…...let me explain.
If you think about it, a boat is a fibreglass shell full of electronics, a sophisticated engine and all sorts of other complicated mechanical systems designed to get you from A to B without getting your feet wet. But all of this sits in salt water for most of the year. In O'Level Physics we leant that salt is highly corrosive, which means, not unsurprisingly, our floating home is actually desolving away little by little every day like a sugar lump in a cup of tea - only a bit slower. Neither of us want to step out of bed one morning and plunge waist deep into a half sunken saloon because Comino has sprung a leak. How could that actually happen you ask. Well, it's an unavoidable fact that a boat is full of holes under the waterline, all of which have pipes leading from the deep blue sea outside, to the nice cosy dry rooms inside. Think about it…..flushing the toilet means a hole in and a hole out. The engine needs cooling water so there's another hole in (cold water) and another one out (hot water). We have three sinks, two in the galley (kitchen) and one in the heads (bathroom)……yes you've guessed it, they all need holes to drain away. So, all these pipes equate to potential disaster if we don't spend time cleaning, checking and replacing anything that looks iffy. In the case of the engine, it's even more complicated. Cold cooling water is pumped all round the unit meaning that there are dozens of different places corrosion could cause a leak. This leads me neatly onto the fact that when we've returned from the last few trips out to sea, including Sicily, there's been a significant amount of water in the bilges. I don't do water in the bilges AT ALL. If they're kept completely dry then any sign of water is a clear indication that you've got a leak somewhere. And that's what we had……a leak. In other words, we've slowly been sinking! To cut a long story short, the main bearings on the engine cooling water pump had corroded and worn allowing sea water to trickle out of what should normally be a sealed system. Luckily, we found the problem quite easily, but replacing the whole pump cost the equivalent of the gross national debt of Guatemala. We're therefore dry again, but poor. And if that isn't bad enough, for the past few weeks the beer and wine coming out of our fridge has been unacceptably cool rather than stone cold. Another man was summoned to the case and after topping up the compressor with a dose of R134a gas, all is working fine again. Needless to say he needed paying as well. The emersion tank isn't working so we (Nicki) have to boil a kettle to wash up. The steaming light bulb up the mast has blown. I could go on but I won't. The list of maintenance issues is steadily growing and therefore this is a formal notification to say that all forms of social activity will cease forthwith in favour of me getting my arse into gear with my toolkit in order to avoid paying any more tradesmen. Nicki has returned to the UK for a short while leaving clear instructions to get the boat sorted in time for her return. Being on my tod means there's no excuse. I shall be working diligently every day for the next fortnight to get things ship shape and Bristol fashion. Did I mention that I'm going out on another boat with a big group of friends tomorrow to anchor and have a picnic somewhere….I hope SWMBO doesn't read this. NB: SWMBO = She Who Must Be Obeyed ! People sailing around the Med all say the same thing about the unusual weather this year. April was normal but May was still rather unsettled; June was unexpectedly tolerable heat wise; July was hot but very windy; August, particularly the last two weeks, has been really hot……and I mean hot. Some days have been excessively humid too. Not wishing to be crude, but all you can do is sit around sweating like a proverbial pig!
Anyway, being on a boat means you can head for a bay and spend the day in the sea floating around on a noodle keeping cool. And that's what we've been doing mostly. However, yesterday whilst at anchor in Spinola Bay (St Julians) something a bit different happened. There we were bobbing up and down minding our own business when a ruddy great big tug boat arrived towing a large flat barge, which it plonked into place not more than 100 yards away from us. It's the fireworks barge for this weekends St Julians Fiesta and the container on-board, together with the boxes, have enough explosives in them to obliterate half of Malta. The St Julians fireworks displays on Saturday and Sunday are both supposed to be real show stoppers. I said to Nicky, how brilliant it was that we could stay at anchor for another couple of days and watch the pyrotechnic extravaganza go off right above our heads. However, when I woke up this morning, after a rather swelly night in the bay, I looked at the barge and thought... do I really want to be that close to the action. I asked Nicki her opinion and we both agreed…NO WE DON'T. So, we're now back in the marina and our plan is to walk round to St Julians to watch the fireworks from a safe distance on the shore. When power boats roar close by me at high speed creating a wake the size of a tidal wave, almost tipping us in the drink without so much as a "sorry about that", my language becomes quite colourful and I insult the driver with a repetoire of swear words that would impress any fisherman's wife. In summary, my views on motor yacht owners are normally less than complimentary.
However, the invite to spend a day on a large Azamut (Italian built) motor yacht was accepted like a shot. The vessel in question is quite a whopper actually - 52 feet of pure luxury, driven by two 600 horse power engines that consume more diesel in one hour than I would use in twelve months. This is a serious boat. A group of us, the usual offenders, jumped on-board with much excitement as it was a real treat to lounge around on such a beautiful boat. We've known Ian and his wife for quite some time and they were the perfect hosts. We headed down South to Island Bay at great speed (creating a tidal wave behind us of course), a journey that would take Comino around two hours. We got there in just under twenty minutes!!! Chilling, swimming and lunching were the main ingredients for the day……it was really a bit special I must say. Whilst penning a few words about the Sicily trip yesterday, I mentioned the homemade sun dried cherry tomatoes and the tomato paste I bought at the market in Marina de Ragusa. After I finished writing, it occurred to me that a bit of pasta and tomato sauce might just hit the spot for that nights supper. And so I made my dish using the newly acquired produce, plus some garlic (lots actually), olive oil and Parmesan. OMG……I'm addicted. What a difference…….I've never tasted anything so delicious before. This is my new signature dish and when I've run out of ingredients I'm going to sail ten hours there and ten hours back again just to get some more.
It was just after 5am last Saturday morning when we slipped our lines and headed out towards the open sea in pitch darkness. Jane was onboard with us and close by Alfred and Carol (Jane's cousin) were in their boat Dovecote, together with her sister Becky. Our destination was Sicily with ten hours of sailing ahead of us. Well, motor sailing actually. Thankfully the wind was light and the sea was very calm. Although the benign conditions didn't allow for an engine off, cracking sail, when you're travelling that kind of distance comfort is key. Within half an hour the sun began to rise and a beautiful sunny day slowly unfurled. As we got further away from land the sea turned from light turquoise to an amazing deep blue…… as a little bonus the occasional dolphin dropped by to say hello, but sadly not for long. Malta faded into the distance behind us and for several hours we couldn't see any land at all. Then slowly the thin dark outline of Sicily appeared far away on the horizon. After nine hours at sea we eventually rounded Capo Passaro on the South East tip of the island, which prompted us to head inland and drop anchor in a small bay to swim and cool down. Refreshed and rearing to go again, we made the short hop to Marzamemi, a small village straight out of an old Mafia movie. Dinner that night was in a charming little restaurant overlooking the sea, but to be honest the eye wateringly expensive bill wasn't justifiable based on the quality of the food. We decided not to complain though in case we woke up next to a horse's head!!! Marzamemi was a bustling place rammed with Italian tourists filling the narrow streets. Needless to say we were a bit "cream crackered" so it wasn't a particularly late one for us, although we did wander around after dinner generally soaking up the lively atmosphere. Next morning we set off again for a six hour sail round to the South West coast of Sicliy…... Marina de Ragusa to be precise. The forecast said little wind and no swell. I think there are two LL's in the word to describe that particular forecast. We had a good sail alright, but the 20 knot plus winds and choppy conditions made for a seriously bouncy ride, although Nicki and Jane seemed happy enough once I poured them a stiff drink. By mid afternoon we were safely tied up in the marina, not shaken, but a little stirred, allowing us a couple of hours to go in search of a fish market, given that we'd caught naff all on the way despite a lot of trying. We weren't disappointed……fresh muscles to start followed by fresh tuna steaks, caponata and salad made for a magnificent dinner aboard Dovecote, cooked up by the girls. The wine flowed and the laughter got more and more raucous……a memorable night indeed. Monday was all about mooching around town admiring the wonderful villas and strolling along the seafront promenade. In the evening we dined out again and this time the meal was exquisite. Seafood again……but hey……we were by the sea.
Tuesday morning was market day so we ventured up the road to see what Sicilian delights might be on offer. I couldn't resist the homemade sun dried cherry tomatoes and freshly made thick tomato paste. Talk about sweet n' tasty. I'm expecting my next pasta dish will be to die for (I hope so anyway), watch this space. At midday we untied our lines again and headed back out to sea for the long haul back to Malta. The wind was sufficient to get all the sails up but with the engine on as well we could do 7.5 knots. Getting back as quickly as possible was more important than being a purist sailor and in the end we arrived at Manoel Island Marina just as the light was fading. It was a fun filled four days but more importantly getting back into the sailing routine was a real pleasure. Up until now, neither of us feel we've been particularly adventurous this year compared to the last two years. Malta to Sicily and back is a decent trip by any standards and getting out our Italian courtesy flag was a bit overdue. We've had more culture in the past few days than you could shake a stick at!! This time we headed off to see the spectacular Baroque architecture featured in "The Silent City"……or Mdina as it's actually called. The silent bit comes from the fact that the narrow alleyways and roads don't allow for any cars, although I suspect if I read up on the history there'll be a more authentic reason. In the 16th century this fortified extravaganza of big posh houses/palaces was the location of choice for the great and the good of Malta'a high society. Perched up on a hill top, surrounded on all sides by monumental bastions, Mdina offered secure protection for the rich dignitaries who didn't want those nasty Turkish invaders knocking on their doors in the middle of the night demanding lord knows what. Today, it's still home to people whose families have held property there for centuries on end, plus wealthy types who want to live in what is essentially an open air museum. It's alright if you like a never ending parade of tour parties yomping around your front yard, following a guide holding up an umbrella or, for the Americans who've stepped off their cruise liners for the day, a Micky Mouse set of ears on a stick. I kid you not. Anyway, when all's said and done, the buildings are well worth the trip, despite the incessant chattering of hundreds of French, German, Dutch, school kids blocking every avenue without a care in the world. And don't get me started on the Japanese….. I'm sorry but there's just no other way to say it……everywhere you look…... you see lovely knockers! For a little light relief from all the architectural splendour, you can visit the torture museum, where all manner of atrocities from down the ages are displayed in gruesome reality with fake blood and real sound effects. For the sake of people's nervous dispositions, I've only shown pictures of the more light hearted ways in which humans have inflicted pain and suffering on each other. Poor James came out saying that he was now deeply disturbed and needed a chilled beer to calm his nerves. Any excuse!!! I think I should end on a more positive note. Here's a picture of the only normal houses I could find in Mdina. And even these could rightfully be described as Des Res!!!
Anyone who knows our son James will know that he's fascinated by all things pre-historic. Ancient cultures and long lost civilisations float his boat big time, so a trip to the Hagar Qim Temples was very high up on his list of things to do whilst in Malta. In a nutshell, the temples are a UNESCO World Heritage Site, regarded as the oldest building complex in the whole world. Archaeologists call them temples, but in reality nothing is really known about what actually went on inside these intricate constructions. They didn't excavate any evidence of people living there, such as pottery fragments or animal bones, which is why the general view is that Haga Qim was a place of ancient worship. The Megalithic temples originate from Neolithic times, about 5,000 years ago. When the sun rises for the summer solstice, a beam of light shines through the entrance right down to the main altar…..maybe this signalled a moment to sacrifice something or someone……spooky!!! Circular holes had been strategically cut into other rocks allowing beams of sunlight to hit other parts of the buildings at various times of the year. A few hundred yards away is a second temple called Mnajra, built in the Ggantija Phase, some 3,600 years BC. Again, it was interesting to see how these ancient people created different areas and altars within the overall construction. A bit like stonehenge and the pyramids, the stones were massive and so accurately bonded together. It was a really fascinating experience to walk on the same ground as people had done so many thousands of years ago, and to touch the very same stones that they had touched with their hands. Your mind races with thoughts about what these ancient civilisations did and how they lived on what would have been a very remote island in the middle of the Mediterranean. After we'd had our fill of culture, the general view amongst my crew was that a cheeky beer was in order. Always happy to oblige, we drove up to Dingli Cliffs to our favourite little hostelry right up on the top overlooking the island of Fifla. Back in the days of British occupancy, our warships and bombers used the island as target practise with live munitions. Today, thankfully, it's a nature reserve and nobody is allowed to set foot on it. I'm sort of getting to grips with all the knobs and fiddly bits on my camera, so I thought I would experiment with an arty shot of James looking cool.
I know it's been a couple of weeks since the last update, but if you think we've been constantly lounging around in the sun doing absolutely nothing, you'd be very wrong. Well, maybe sometimes we have. Malta just isn't the kind of place where there's time to get bored, especially with our set of lively friends. Now summer is in full swing a bit of a party atmosphere is in the air and everyone wants to take full advantage of the long hot days and the warm balmy evenings. Weekends in particular are hectic and busy……but hey……we're not complaining. We've started to explore the island now aboard Comino with a mission to find secluded bays where the water is sparkling clear. One such trip took us to the far South, where we dropped anchor in Island Bay for a day's relaxation with a few friends. I think the phrase "what's not to like" is appropriate here…….this is what we were swimming in……amazing. Jane has got her stunning roof top terrace fully operational now, which means there have been a few BBQ's round the pool plus some lying around on sun loungers being rather lazy. A number of sumptuous suppers have been consumed under the Moroccan style gazebo and a few glasses of "vino calapso" downed…...just to be social of course. Then we had a visit from good friends from the UK. Ray and Judy hopped over to Malta to spend a couple of days with us at the end of their holiday in Gozo. I guess nobody would be surprised to hear that we frequented a couple of restaurants and bars and one evening Jane joined us too. As you can see, my suntan is coming along nicely. Both Ray and Nicki's dads worked at the GCHQ facility on Dingli cliffs (spying on the North African countries I guess) so it seemed appropriate to do a bit of a road trip around the island where Ray lived in his childhood. It was all very nostalgic and we ended up at the very spot where the the two dads did their thing on behalf of world peace and democracy all those years ago. The actual nissan huts aren't there any more but the big radar installation certainly is……..now part of the Maltese Government's shipping control centre. As luck would have it, right next door is a rather nice restaurant which dished us up a tasty lunch and a few beers. And then came the Gzira Festa. We're berthed in Gzira so it would have been rude not to join in the celebrations. Essentially, it's a religious festival over three days, with lively street processions, bands playing and big colourful banners festooned across every road in the area. Thunder bombs constantly explode day and night just above the houses, shaking the very foundations. It all reached a crescendo on Saturday night as the Holy Madonna statue was raised onto an elaborate plinth with great ceremony in front of an adoring crowd. Then the party really started. A massive fireworks display, trestle tables spread across the now closed roads and vino flowing like a proverbial river. Pizza a plenty was dished up to soak up the alcohol as we partied long into the night with a group of friends. You'll probably know that one of the reasons we're in Malta at the moment is to revisit The Blue Lagoon, where we made ourselves a promise twenty years ago to return in our own boat after we experienced a few days there in peace and tranquility on a friends yacht. The truth is it's now a massive tourist attraction with thousands of day trippers invading the place every day in an armada of big tourist boats. In addition, speed boats and jet boats roar around looking for customers to get an adrenalin rush at 25 euros a pop. Then you have half the boats in Malta anchored all around in a relatively small space making it chaotic and stressful as people swing into eachother every time the wind changes direction. This is why we haven't been in a hurry to get there during the peak season. Our time will come later in the year when it's quieter and we can spend a night or two at anchor in what is one of the most beautiful bits or water on the planet. However, the other day I was asked if I would like to crew on the very same boat we sailed on twenty years ago. My good mate Neville needed to take some clients on a trip to the Blue Lagoon. And so I went. And yes it was horrendous compared to the last time I was there when it was practically deserted. But, at the same time, it was fantastic……nostalgia is a funny thing! After Neville's guests had dived in off the boat for a quick swim we hastily left the madness of the lagoon and headed over to the island of Gozo. He wanted to show me a little inlet where the water was equally clear and only a few boats would be anchored. I wasn't disappointed. The area was so beautiful a movie set was being constructed on the cliffs for Brad and Angelina's next movie... By The Sea…the story of a married couple on holiday trying to patch up their failing relationship. I've offered myself as a stunt double for any steamy bedroom scenes with Angelina, but I haven't heard back yet! They will be spending eight weeks on set at the end of August, having rented a villa nearby. It's easy to see why. Earlier this week I did pop back to the UK for a couple of days as part of my little on-going work project. As per usual, I stayed one night with Emily-Jane and Will……the newly weds, fresh back from their honeymoon. They both looked tanned and relaxed and told me about their plans to now start house hunting. All very exciting for them. And when I returned to Malta, I had James in tow, who's now spending a couple of weeks in the sun with us. Needless to say, Nicki was over the moon to see him as we came through the arrivals door at the airport……tears a plenty were shed.
It's Sunday today and as at 11am we don't have any plans yet. Mind you, it would help if James got his arse out of bed. I think the beach beckons. Tomorrow, I will be working……honest. As the saying goes - "time flies when you're having fun". It's slipped by this past week with such stunning speed that our feet have hardly touched the ground. Here's a quick catch-up on all our recent comings and goings, before I forget how much has happened in such a short space of time. Last Saturday we experienced the most amazing day ever. I am, of course, referring to Em's wedding. In my humble opinion it was the best wedding in the world, but I guess I would say that wouldn't I. The sun shone brightly, the quintessentially English country setting was exquisite, the bride looked truly breathtaking and the occasion couldn't have been bettered. We cried and we laughed in equal measure. A bunch of lovely people celebrated the union of a wonderful couple with song and dance that lasted long into the night. Then, we all met up again in the morning for a "full English" before we said our farewells to the happy couple as they departed for a well deserved honeymoon in the Greek Isles. The next few days were all about knuckling down to tons of admin, paperwork and generally getting things sorted whilst we were back in the UK. There was stuff to get repaired in the rental house ready for new tenants, getting another house on the market, helping James with his affairs (not the female kind - just more paperwork) and a couple of work related meetings for me thrown in just for good measure. Busy, busy busy you could say!
On Wednesday afternoon we hopped on a train to the airport for the flight home to Malta in anticipation of a bit of R&R in the sun. However, those nice French Air Traffic Controller chappies had other plans for us (the word w**k**s sprung to mind). After an hours delay in the airport bar (not really a hardship) we boarded the plane only to be told by the pilot that we'd be sat on the tarmac for another hour and a half due to the ATC strike. At that point I vowed never to drink french wine again, eat fois gras or look up the dresses of can can girls. Well, two out of three is punishment enough - let's not be too hasty about the vino shall we? Come to think of it - I'm not sure I'm prepared to miss out on any of them, but I'm still bloody annoyed. By Thursday morning we were back aboard Comino and feeling nice and chilled again. Not for long however. Come Saturday, we had birthday celebrations for a friend to contend with, which in these parts means an all day beach party followed by a restaurant dinner. I had barbecued ribs, which basically looked like a whole pig on a plate. Nicki had lamb shank, which resembled an entire lamb on a plate. The next morning we were up at the crack of dawn - obviously still feeling as full as a Catholic School. Being the hospitable people that we are, we'd asked Jane and her sister, Becky, to come sailing with us. By eight o'clock I was slaving away in the galley cooking a little Italian pasta dish ready for the evening and by nine thirty we'd slipped our lines for the two hour journey up to Selmun Bay. It was a scorchio day of swimming in crystal waters with occasional nibbles and drinks to keep us nourished. My pasta supper seemed to go down a treat, so much so that we somehow decided to stay all-night at anchor and enjoy the weekend to the full. And so Monday morning arrived. At some time not long after dawn, we lifted the anchor and gently motored our way back to Manoel Island Marina so that Jane could go to work. As for me and Nicki, we'll be hibernating in the aft cabin for the next three days and not receiving any visitors at all whilst our bodies recover from the excesses of the past week. If there was a branch of the Betty Ford Clinic in Malta, I reckon we'd be in it by now. Waking up this morning in the Cotswolds has resulted in a dramatic change in colour. What was yesterday a bright blue seascape in Malta, is now a luscious green landscape in England.
This is the week before the wedding bells toll and my word there's plenty to do over the coming days. I'll be mostly praying to the weather gods for bucket loads of sunshine and Nicki will be running around like a whirling dervish making sure Em gets all the support she needs before her big day. We're staying in a little holiday cottage up in the hills away from the hustle and bustle of civilisation enjoying rabbits, squirrels, badgers and deer. By that I mean out in the fields…... not sitting on our dinner plates!!! Seven days from now I'll be washed, scrubbed, suited and booted in all my finery ready for that brief stroll down the aisle holding on to Em for dear life. I'll not be giving her away you see……in my mind I'll just be lending her to someone else, who also loves her very much. In the meantime, I'll relax on the patio and soak up the scenery. Emily-Jane's five day trip to Malta was pretty action packed, although sailing wasn't really a good option due to the blustery North East wind. Let's just say the heavy swell would have made it difficult to hold a glass of wine without spilling it - and that's no flippin good is it? Instead, the entertainment programme went something like this… * A women only shopping day in Sliema (I twiddled my thumbs). * A sight seeing day in Valletta (with me as tour guide). * A sunbathing day on Jane's roof terrace (whilst I worked) * A fish and prawn BBQ (which I cooked). * A beach hopping day around the island (where I chauffeured). * A morning session with a beautician (I don't need such treatment). And one more thing - in-between all of this fun in the sun, our "girlie" friends organised a Malta Hen Night for Em in one of my favourite restaurants. (I had beans on toast on the boat). Aching ribs and sore heads were clearly in evidence the next morning but thankfully the goings-on of the previous night didn't include the normally obligatory male stripper getting his tackle out for maximum comedic effect. After Em departed we had a few days to chill before the weekend sail to Spinola Bay, overlooking St Julians with its cluster of lively restaurants and bars. Being anchored several hundred yards from "the bright lights", we were able to observe the hustle and bustle from a safe distance, whilst we ate a rather splendid supper in the cockpit with Jane on-board for extra company. Although we've been itching to make the trip back to The Blue Lagoon, I wanted to test my engine repairs on the shorter hop to Spinola Bay first. As it happened all was well and after less than an hour motoring up the coast we enjoyed a hot day bobbing around in crystal clear turquoise water. And we had our first swim of the year. In the morning the sunrise was right off the scale, although neither of the women crew were up any where near early enough to see it. Yours truly sat in awe at the spectacular view enjoying perfect peace and tranquility. Early afternoon we motored back with a slight sightseeing detour round Grand Harbour - another first for us aboard Comino. As I write, the weather has turned quite windy again and we're staying at Jane's house so Nicki can prepare for her departure back to the UK on Friday, giving her two weeks to help with final preparations for Em's wedding. I'll be here for an extra week with a mission to polish the boat again, given that half the Sahara Desert has dumped itself on the boat during a heavy downpour last night. It's a really odd phenomenen but I guess in real terms we're quite close to North Africa. At least there was no Camel dung mixed in with the rain! The whole motivation for running away from so called "normal life" (stress, commuting, gardening, bosses, rain, more rain, murky seas etc.) to sail to this part of the world was based almost entirely on an amazing boating experience we had here in Malta several decades ago - see About Us for details if you don't know the story. Going to the island of Comino, aboard Comino, is our very own private pilgrimage. Anchoring overnight in the Blue Lagoon again after so many years is our equivalent of going to Mecca - without the long white robes and funny headgear of course.
And last Saturday, at 09:30 precisely, we set off for the voyage of our dreams. Talk about excited, we had a bottle of Champers cooling in the fridge to celebrate the occasion and Jane was aboard to help us re-live that precious time we had on her boat all those years ago. For two and a half hours we gently motor-sailed up the East coast of Malta in brilliant sunshine on a calm inky blue sea, arriving at Comino just in time for lunch and bubbles…...even a swim maybe. As we inched our way towards the opening to The Blue lagoon, with our destination in sight, a sound that strikes terror into the heart of every yachtsman pierced our ears. The engine overheating alarm suddenly went mental. There's no choice really - you have to turn the motor off immediately or risk engine seizure and a bill for ten thousand quid if that happens. I quickly stopped and started the thing several times just to see if it was a fault on the alarm system, but a warning light showed we were definitely overheating. In other words, cooling water was not circulating properly. So there we were, floundering in a relatively narrow channel, surrounded by reefs and rocks, with no engine and two rather nervous looking ladies looking at the skipper for a crumb of comfort. Quick as a flash, I made the decision to haul up all the sails and make a hasty u-turn back out to open sea. In that moment the long-awaited dream of a magical night anchored in The Blue Lagoon was put on hold for another day. Sad, yes, but the first priority in such situations is the safety of one's crew - end of. It took nearly four hours to poodle back to our marina in light airs. Nevertheless we really enjoyed the relaxation of a sedate sail in the sun. Arriving at our berth under sail caused a bit of amusement amongst some on-lookers who were no doubt thinking…...mad Englishman, why doesn't he just put the engine on? I did in fact do just that for all of thirty seconds to reverse into our space, and, even though I say it myself, it wasn't a bad bit of seamanship getting us back on dry land without a hitch. By way of compensation for the aborted trip, I did some sterling work in the galley that evening, which meant we shovelled down a rather sumptuous dinner, quaffed a few chilled vinos and retired to our cabins feeling good n' mellow (inebriated more like !). OK, we weren't bobbing around in The Blue Lagoon, but we promised to do it all again next week when the engine is fixed. And how's this for a bit of a bonus, Emily-Jane will be with us for a short break, making the trip even more special - every cloud and all that. The dream is still a dream - but watch this space for news of the next attempt. Oh, by the way, when I said at the beginning about leaving the stresses and strains of "normal life", guess where I've just been? Back in the UK catching commuter trains and doing two days of heavy meetings. Mind you, staying in a hotel was a nice change, but another train to the airport and a flight back to Malta last night makes me feel very pleased to be waking up on Comino this morning to peace and calm again. Another bonus (even better than a financial one), was that Emily-Jane came on the same flight with me, so we shared a glass or two at the airport and then chatted away for three hours on the plane. Where shall I start. I guess Monday is an obvious place……being the beginning of the week and all that. So, on Monday evening I was flown back to the UK by some people who wanted me to do some work. It meant I could stay with Emily-Jane that night and catch up with all her latest news face to face. That was a real treat. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent in back to back meetings; some of them were in a ruddy great big office with lots of people staring at computer monitors. That was just weird. After over two years away from the world of commerce, being in that environment again felt very strange. Another bonus was spending Tuesday evening with James over a bite to eat and a few drinks, catching up on all his latest news face to face. On Wednesday night I flew back to Malta with a case full of documents and a head buzzing with newly aquired information. Thursday was a national holiday in Malta, so Nicki and I spent the day lounging around the boat in brilliant sunshine generally chilling out. Some white wine was served at various points I have to admit. After all, I had just done two whole days of real work……not something I'm particulalry used to don't you know! Then on Friday morning at 8.30am a car arrived at the marina (see pic above) to take me to my newly set up office, complete with desk, phone, pens, pencils and notebook. My wad of paperwork brought back from England sat in front of me eagerly awaiting my attention. And so I tucked in……reading, writing, sending e-mails……doing what you do when you have an important job to be getting on with. I reckon this pattern of life will continue for at least the next two months, but my plan is to start much earlier in the morning and finish around lunchtime when it starts to get quite hot. Don't tell anyone, but I might just take the odd day or two off and go sailing. That's if I manage to get ahead of my deadlines of course. And now it's Saturday morning. All of a sudden the weekend feels like the weekend again. Two whole days off……wow. The only trouble is, just like back home when you're looking forward to a couple of days outdoors, doing a barby maybe, it's pouring with rain here and we're shut inside. Ah well……perhaps it will brighten up later. Oh by the way……I was pulling your leg with the picture of the car that came for me. Actually, it was a Ford KA. It's still Springtime here with some days like yesterday giving us a heavy downpour, followed by a stiff breeze. By afternoon the sun shone brightly, but in the wind it still felt fresh. So, on went the coats and into the countryside we went before everywhere gets that scorched earth look.
On Sunday we saw red. And then there was more red. As the afternoon wore on we could see nothing but red. Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about anger here……this was the Annual Malta Strawberry Festival held up North in the small village of Mgarr and attended by what seemed like most of Malta. Tons of huge crimson strawberries are grown across the island and the farmers bring them to the festival to sell. Expert patisserie chefs prepare tray upon tray of exotic cakes. You could even get a strawberry pizza if that's your cup of tea. As the picture above suggests, it's also the artichoke season, so plenty of them were cleverly intermingled in the displays as well. I was with three women (one of them Nicki of course) so you can imagine the oooh's and ahhh's every time we passed yet another stall creaking under the weight of exotic strawberry delights. I suggested we find a nice little bar in order to avoid any further temptation to put on five pounds in one afternoon. All agreed and we plonked ourselves down with a glass of vino to watch the world go by. And where were we sat……four feet away from the hog roast. Imagine sitting just slightly downwind of a whole pig gently roasting in front of your eyes. Apart from the visual torture, the smell was tantalising. But, I'm pleased to report none of us cracked (slight pun on crackling there!) and we all went home for poached salmon and salad with our waistlines unaltered. Just to clarify, the girls are on diets you see, readying themselves for the bikini season ahead. Back in the day, far flung venues such as Wigan Casino, St Ives, Blackpool Mecca, Nottingham Palais and Yate (to name but a few) played host to my musical passion. It was all about Northern Soul, a sort of secret underground movement that enticed thousands of people from all over the country to come together and dance their socks off at weekend "All Nighters" and "All Dayers". Whilst boring kids were tucked up in bed or out fishing for the day, we were pirouetting around the dance floor like "Strictly" contestants on speed - which, off course, most people were! The point of this little introduction is to say that each place we went to had its own very special "signature" tune. These tunes are etched into my soul and for some reason current everyday occurrences cause them to pop into my head at random. Yesterday was no exception. We arrived back in Malta and all I could hear in my bonce was that Yate Northern Soul classic from Ester Phillips - "What a difference a day makes - 24 little hours". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6CAeDN9er8 The morning before started with a taxi ride to the coach station. Then we suffered the 3 hour journey up the M4, and through a typically snarled up London, to get to Victoria. Humping our not insignificant amount of luggage across sahara smog filled streets to the underground was not nice. Being right in the middle of rush hour, the tube journey to Heathrow was bloody hot and crowded. Inevitably, checking in cases at the airport involved standing in a long line for another hour. OK, a glass of vino in the departure lounge did take the edge off things a bit, but the following three hours on the plane was a real chore. Thankfully, good old Jane (less of the old she'd say), was waiting for us at the other end ready to whisk us away to our beds at her place. It was 2.00am in the morning when we entered her house. And then, yesterday, that tune just kept playing inside my head over and over again. "What a difference a day makes - 24 little hours". You can imagine just how tiresome the journey was, but here's what 24 little hours can really do……….
We're driving along in Cheltenham late on Saturday afternoon. The sun is shining and the sky is mostly blue. I'm thinking, lets go back to the cottage and I'll make a start on an early dinner. The boot was full of goodies after our shop at ASDA.
Nicki says, "do you know what I want?". "Nope" I replied, "but tell me anyway". "I want a cheeky beer besides a babbling brook - you know, a typical Cotswold country pub, but I want to see water". Mmmm…...I thought for a moment. Then a suitable place popped into my head. Our journey took us through some of the most spectacular scenery you can imagine. Rolling hills, acres of neat farmland, forests of intertwining branches yet to sprout green leaves; there was a shimmering lake and occasional hamlets of honey coloured cottages, good enough to grace the lid of any chocolate box. From the regency splendour of Cheltenham town centre, to the remote wilderness around The Mill at Withington, it took all of twenty five minutes to get there. And so it was, that in no time at all, we were sat in the garden having a cheeky beer surrounded by the very best of the English countryside. And yes, we were looking at a fast flowing stream swelled by the recent rains. I turned to Nicki and said, "you should call me The Mail Man". "Why's that". I smiled wryly, "because I deliver". |
A FEW PICS OF COMINO Click a photo to enlarge and use side arrows to scroll through. COMINO IS CURRENTLY HEREDID SOMEONE SAY SEAFOODOn our journey from Portugal to Greece we enjoyed amazing seafood almost everywhere we stopped. Finding the local fish market was always a priority because seafood was so plentiful and so reasonably priced. And, the displays were a feast for your eyes.
Locating a market sometimes meant pounding the pavements in searing heat, but if you kept your eyes peeled, you often came across a little clue. The pic below was a rather less than subtle advert for a fish market - it was eight feet tall.
Freshly cooked onboard, a plateful of giant prawns, baked in wine and garlic, washed down with a few glasses of local vino, was like heaven. Watching the sunset on the boat eating a meal like that was the epitome of "living the dream".
Now we're in Greece we've another favourite to savour. I'm talking about fried Calamari. It's usually good, but every now and then it's off-the-scale fantastic. At Natalie's Taverna on Kontokali Beach in Corfu, it was nothing short of epic.
We're based in Lefkas now and It's been a bit of a mission to find somewhere just as good. And we have. Rakias is a mere ten minute walk from the marina and this little fish market, with its very own taverna attached, is quite sensational.
Oh...and it's also worth mentioning that, on occasions, a bit of barbequed Octopus is on the menu at some of the tavernas we frequent. Can I resist....no. SUNSETS AND DRAMATIC SKIESNo filters, or any other monkey business, have been used to enhance these images.
OUR ADVENTURES FROM THE BEGINNING CATEGORIES
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