Sunday April 15th
Well, we're here. Arrived in Gouvia Marina in Corfu at about lunch time, after a delivery of about 1,000 miles from Marseille with Paul and Lyn Hanby, who were complete novices when we met a fortnight ago.
The last leg of the journey provided its own moments, and continued to teach us that the sea can spring surprises wherever you are. Leaving St. Maria de Leuca on the heel of Italy, the weather forecast was not good. Gales were forecast all around us: the Sicily strait, Adriatic, Southern Ionian. But nothing for the Northern Ionian.
A chance to test out the new Grib weather package from Ugrib (www.ugrib.com).
You can install their reader, and then download a three or five day weather forecast shown in wind spikes by email. It will even allow you to modify the size of the email data package it sends you - ideal for those who use the internet from their yacht by mobile or satellite phone.
The grib chart showed a clear passage to Corfu over the next two days, with only a slight increase in wind strength in the second day. It turned out flat calm, the sea glassy, the sun extremely hot, and once again we had to motor. And it turned out to be the day of the big catch!
I have sailed for years on yachts, both on long delivery passages and on shorter coastal hops, and I usually troll a line with a lure. And until today, 30 odd years of sailing had produced no fish by this method. While we were in Capri, earlier in the voyage, more in hope than expectation, I had chatted to a couple of local fishermen about the lure needed to catch tuna.
One of them took me to the tackle shop and showed me what looked like a huge plastic squid, put an equally large hook on the counter, a lead weight that would sink the Bismark, and a reel of 50lb breaking strain line.
So we had been towing the plastic squid behind the yacht, and were almost exactly half-way across the Strait of Otranto, when the reel screamed out. I would like to say that I fought the fish for hours, but in truth, I gave the rod to Paul who is a much more accomplished fisherman, and he was able to land a thirty pound yellow fin tuna. We had joked about eating tuna that evening, and we had enough to feed an army!
Lyn wanted to anchor for the night, and with the winds coming from the south, I chose a small bay in the north of the island of North Orthoni, one of the outlying islands off the coast of Corfu, that would shelter us from the light southerly wind. We crept in slowly, found our spot, and dropped anchor, carefully testing the holding. All seemed well.
We checked the depth with the lead line, finding that we needed to re-set the depth gauge as it was giving a dangerously over-confident reading. We will have to email Raymarine, as there is nothing we can find in the instructions about how to calibrate the transponder on the ST60 kit so that it gives the correct reading against a lead line tested depth that will give the accurate depth of water under the keel. Odd, that, and entirely frustrating.
We had tuna and salad for supper, washed down with Italian beer, set the anchor alarm on the GPS to warn us of drag, and the depth alarm on the depth gauge, and went to bed with the yacht gently swaying in a completely calm, starlit bay. At about 0115, I woke to the sound of the alarm, and felt the yacht being seriously thrown about by what felt like a very large swell indeed.
I had fitted an anchor snub line to protect the yacht from anchor snatch. I use one of those rubber snubbers you can buy for mooring, winding a length of line round it, tying one end to the forward cleat, and the other to the anchor cable. I then let out more cable so that the yacht is held on the snub line. And now, it was working overtime.
A quick check showed that the wind had shifted to the north, that it had risen to over 20 knots, that we were dragging onto a lee shore in a very short and disturbed sea, and that we had less than two metres of water left under the keel (thanks, Raymarine, but I do wish you would include instructions on how to calibrate your gear).
So it was a very quick up and away, with no time to spare, heading out to sea in a dark night and a growing gale. Another yacht anchored in the bay soon followed us out. Motoring round to the south of the island, we found calmer water, and stayed there whilst the squall passed, leaving for Corfu at first light.
And so arrival at Corfu found the Hanbys and their skipper tired after an unexpected night up, but ready for clearing in. Which we couldn't do, because it was a Sunday. We were advised to relax, and clear in at Corfu town by taxi on Monday. Paul busied himself getting the tender set up, but found the new outboard impossible to start.
Being an inveterate fiddler with all things mechanical, he had the engine open, the plug out, and was squirting stuff into the cylinder to get it to work. In the end he gave up, only to find that he had spent most of the afternoon trying to start the outboard without fitting the kill-cord. A quick rummage for the red curly lead, and hey presto, the outboard fired and he set off around the marina for a quick acquaint course in the magic art of steering a rubber tender. Just like steering a tea tray, and just as elegant!
The final surprise came as we were walking down the pontoon after mooring up. Lyn and Paul decided to become live-aboards after a two week experience with Sailing Holidays last year. And there, moored alongside in Gouvia, was the very yacht they sailed in. Arkouda, moored with all her friends, waiting to inspire its next visitors with the joy of sailing in Greece.
This may be the end of the journey from Marseille to Corfu, and the last instalment for now, but it is only the beginning of the journey for the Hanbys. Later this week, Lyn will fly back to the UK to collect their two children, I shall leave them to return to the UK, and their real adventure will begin.
