V:  The Straits of Messina (between Sicily and Italy) last night did not disappoint their Odyssey hype!  A real phenomena as the two waters of the med met and mix in this narrow gap. The Corevwrecken style whirlpool‘s and overfalls delighted/terrified the crew and also managed to make their way into a number of hatches! Amazing. We ticked of the mythical whirlpool Charybdis but luckily no sign of the six headed monster Scylla.

Progress under engine overnight along the north coast of Sicily heading west has taken us past strobe-lit fishing nets and a group of volcanic islands called the Aeolian islands.  The active volcano of Stromboli is its most famous member.  The islands have a rich 5000 year history as key trade positions in the copper and bronze ages and faces decline under the Roman’s.  They had a very bloody phase including years of pirate looting and one poor island being a deportation colony for 6000 defecting Carthenegian soldiers who met a sticky end.  

As we are still on passage to Barcelona from Albania, and not checked in to Italy, it’s a shame we can’t stop.

I started my watch this morning at 6am. The sun rose spectacularly over the volcanic mounds.  Everyone was in bed, it was calm and still and I dozed off in the cockpit and had a dream.

It went something like this…I dreamt that I changed course and headed for the nearby extinct volcanic island of Isola di Alicudi on our beam. A 800m high perfect cone clad in ancient terraces and sparsely adorned with bright green cactuses and the odd scrub bush.  The kids woke up on arrival and J expertly helped me secure to one of a handful of mooring bouys laid off the southern shoreline.  He’s been reading a RYA kids guide to sailing and seemed to know all about coming on to a mooring bouy and picked up the lazy line like a pro.  S was having a day of non compliance shall we say but, in my dream, we then launched the dinghy and the three of us rowed the short distance to the shore, leaving L asleep on his off watch and hoping he would be not too confused if he awoke. 

This island to the Aeolian islands is what Sark is to the Channel Islands. The quaint and quiet one!  This island has no roads - save for a thin slab of concreteed footpath along the shore of the fishing harbour - we spotted a single moped which must enjoy its morning commute of 100 yds!  From the small fishing harbour, a cluster of houses rises steeply up the slopes of the volcano, small stepped alleyways connecting them all.  Some of the oldest houses are situated high up the slopes to prevent pirate raids, and the only way to reach them with supplies, is by mule.  Having rowed ashore just south of the harbour, the kids and I pulled the dinghy up the beach which was covered in burnt mauve coloured pumice stones the size of jacket potatoes.  We were met by a group of mules. J knew what a mule was but S had a lot of questions. It turns out at infant school, mules feature in their Frog on a Log rhyming song which she told us about.  Well, I can visualise a ‘frog on a log’ and a ‘cat on a mat’. I have to agree with S’s confusion at having seen a mule for the first time, it indeed looked very implausible to be sitting on a stool (or should it be stule?) 

A short scamper into ‘town’ past some amazing volcanic lava formations revealed a small mini market, a bar selling Italian coffee and ice cream and a ‘anything is possible’ restaurant. There are about a dozen small fishing boats that still looked in working order pulled up on the beach in the harbour. By harbour, don’t get any grand illusions of protective breakwaters. It was merely a section of the thin pebbled beach allocated to the fishing boats.  It seemed a place devoid of any other children. J and S stood out amongst the morning crowd of half a dozen yachts buying their supplies in the tiny mini market or propping up the coffee bar. The resident population seems in that delicate balance between the aging Islanders and the incoming midlifers who are running from the mainland to set up a cafe on a hunk of lava to cure their pains. 

The mini market was distinctly Italian of course. The children zooming in on gorgeous looking fruit and tomatoes and J spotting a giant ham and pancetta.  Also a pasta section taking up a quarter of the shop occupied some time to agree which shape to buy.  Sadly in this dream the shop had no kitchen roll, which is something we are rapidly running out of on board as the kids are using it for arts and crafts and the leaking stern glad also needs a great deal. 

After returning to the boat with provisions and sticky fingers from an Italian lemon ice lolly each we retrieved the now awoken L and headed back to the shore. Introducing the children to Italian Pizza and Arncaini at the anything-is-possible restaurant we then sank our hot bodies in to the cool sea for a snorkelling dip on the shelving beach which had a magical underwater world, rainbow fish hiding among the jacket potatoes.

Then I’m being shaken awake in the cockpit …”Wake up V, you’ve slept through your morning watch!”   It turns out it was all just a dream. Xx.