Monday, 15 February 2016

Some added stability to an uncertain sort of life

Around the time of my 42nd birthday, I spent (I think) 4 days straight all alone. I decided this could possibly be a first for me, in my entire life, to have spent that much time alone without spending time with anyone at all. I used to live alone, I've travelled alone for months on end since I was 25 years old - but I was never actually alone. Anyway, on this particular occasion - which was now 3 years ago - I used my time thinking about the future and, though I hate to admit, where I wanted to be in 20 years time (and there's you thinking I'd use that time all alone to do something deep and meaningful - pah!).

Spurred on by a conversation about the reality of now and our futures (with now ex-Montenegro Mary), I put together a spreadsheet called Project 52 with ideas of how we could continue with this wonderful boaty seasonal-working life that we have as we got older - and if we couldn't, then how the hell were we going to afford to live. Memories from the 1980s of old people dying of cold in front of their electric fires (as they could only afford to keep one bar on) were well embedded in my mind.

Anyway, we ummed and ahhed and discussed and discounted and went this way and that way with all of these ideas - then last spring (2015) the way forward became clear. Together with our mums, we would buy a little cottage in our beloved Peak District which would be a holiday home for our mums, a business and eventually our home in many years to come.

So the hunt began and when we were not entertaining guests on our boat, I was searching searching searching for the perfect place (on a bottom-rung budget). Not easy in a National Park.

I took a mad last-minute dash home in early July to see my very poorly mum (now well) and a potential house came to nothing (though I realised as soon as I got there that my primary reason was to see my mum, not the house, oh how complex and misunderstood are our emotions).

Autumn came and the boiling hot summer of 2015 crashed to an end just as we headed up to Croatia for our cruise - doesn't it always pan out like that? - and we spent several weeks not getting very far, totally knackered and being kept awake by strong winds.  And my head was in Derbyshire, still searching searching.

After sending both mums off on a wildgoose chase a few months before, I was reluctant to ask them to view something again but of course I did. My mum went off  to look at a place in Matlock  Bath (too steep, too noisy, too chipshoppy) and on the spur of the moment I asked her to take a peek at a cottage in Winster which had just come back on the market - it happened to be the very first place I'd ever bookmarked when I started my cottage search but had quickly been under offer.

Knowing me all too well, my mum and Richard knew I was going to love it - very old, very quaint, full of character.  Unfortunately someone else had already put an offer in that day so we went for it and made a counter-offer but they wouldn't accept it without me viewing the property so accepted the other offer!  We couldn't believe it - and after trying to be cool about it, the following morning we thought about how we could change their decision - a big thunderstormy, stompy dog walk with Mollie with waves crashing in seemed to do the trick as when I got back to the boat, the estate agent had been in touch and the owners had changed their minds!  HOORAY!

So I did a mad dash back from Korcula where I left Tim with the boat in Lumbarda Marina.  Bus at 6am, ferry to mainland at 8am, bus to Dubrovnik, bus from Dubrovnik to airport, fly back to Birmingham.  Then reverse trip 48 hours later - it was pretty hectic - but before I'd even stepped into the house I knew it had to be. I stood in the jungle of a garden, looking over our very own limestone dry stone wall, into sloping fields with huge beech trees and horses - and I tried not to cry.  This was it.

The rest of the tale is too dull to be told but between that point and this was lots of hard work and potential disappointments but determination saw us through and as of last week, Lancaster Cottage, Winster is ours!

It is a 300 year old Grade II listed cottage - the kind of place I used to dream about as a kid - the perfect place for us if we are to live on land.  There are many similarities with Monty B and the scope for improvement is high.  All it has to do is stay standing for another 40 odd years and we're all good.

It is the stability that the sensible side of me now needs, now I'm in my mid-40s (thought didn't I always) and these years fly by.  It is the piece of the puzzle which makes the rest of it fit together much more happily - and weirdly, it has made me realise that far from spending the last 8 years winging it, we've actually built up a great business which has enabled us now to invest in our future too rather than just keeping us in bread, cheese and booze.

The time was right to do this  - in every way. It has made me appreciate even more what we have here, it has given us a new project to work on (8 years is a long time to think of nothing but a boat) and we get to have our green grass AND blue sea fixes, making life more interesting and diverse than ever.  I've always felt that I've straddled our life here with life aka friends back in the UK - I've never managed to say goodbye to it all completely - and there was a good reason for that.

Friday, 24 April 2015

The return leg: Sicily to Montenegro May 2014

THURSDAY MAY 1 2014: 0600 GMT+2
Farewell Marina di Ragusa.  Our mates from Water Hobo, Cygnus III, Dakini and Aureile turned out in their pyjamas to wave us off.  Very sad to say goodbye to such a great crew - true friends made. 

Mollie already missing the attention of Maggie and Branko.

Can we stay please? I don't wanna go.

Okay, sailing business, we departed for Syracuse, a 60NM hop with no groundings or squalls, a F3 then F4 from NW up our arse and some of the best sailing everyone declared, that they'd done whilst cruising. Sailed with Amble (Brett and Jane), Zikk Zakk and Eva (crewed by a rookie bus-driver motorcyclist woman who was fantastic and her newish partner who was a middle-aged ex-cop hunter!).  A great company of boats and a fine breeze.

Log entry at 0700: full sun, no wind, bit rolly. Feels good to be out on the water - familiar, exciting and what I should be doing.  Louis not enjoying it much.
Syracuse - could spend a week exploring this place - oh, I forgot, we did!  (1-6 May 2014) Got holed up in Syracuse due to wind/sea state which is a decent anchorage, huge bay but entirely protected from swell which seems to be pretty unusual for Sicilian harbours, let alone anchorages. There are only so many markets (as Baroque churches) you can get enthusiastic about - and Sicily has many many markets - but Syracuse did have a great market.

Photo stolen from Amble's website, but I can lay claim to the fact we were there when this was taken. We med-moored onto the quay for a few days, just us, Amble and Eva and a huge megayacht with a helicopter on its stern deck.  A gusty SE wind came up on day 2, right on our beam. I had been off shopping and returned to see a crowd on the quay, I did a double-take when I thought I couldn't see our boat, then realised I could - it just wasn't where it should be. In fact we were side on, with our starboard bow being fendered off the megayacht by 14 crew with humungous fenders, then I watched gobsmacked as our rig looked like it was about to become entangled with the blades of the helicopter which was literally feet away from our spreaders.

Brainstorm - what the f**k was happening?? Tim was at the bow desperately trying to get our anchor up as the windlass kept tripping and who was on the wheel?  Brett from Amble.  Brilliant!  All I could do was just watch, fist in my mouth, as they battled to get the boat righted, anchor up and off.  Actually, I jumped onto Amble to help Jane as they were also now losing their bow and the stern was in danger of getting trashed against the seawall.

The men got Monty B away and the brilliant crew from the megayacht brought their RIB around and picked me up and I got a semi-drenching as we powered through the waves and they took me back to Monty B.  As I jumped from their bouncing bow onto our stern, Tim shouted in horror "STITCHES!!"  (more of later, I had lots of stitches in my leg).  Thankfully they survived.  We gave them a bottle of plonk to say ta very much and drama was over.

Lesson learnt: a) med-mooring isn't secure unless chain is straight, tight, not too long, well set anchor b) don't med-moor if strong winds forecast if have better option ie. anchoring off.

6 MAY 2014: 0130 DEPARTED SYRACUSE HARBOUR, using leading lights which were clear to follow then out onto a dark, star-studded sea. Usual apprehension but being in tandem with the other 3 boats made it much more enjoyable. Sailed into the sunrise (0530) and watched Venus setting though didn't realise it was Venus until we reached Rocella Ionica which was a shame (we thought it was a weird plane!).

Arrived outside Rocella Ionica harbour at 1745 and radioed the harbour master for assistance with entering the very tricky harbour (shifting sand banks). Discovered the harbour master no longer existed so we had to make our own way in but it was free as a result (I'd rather have the harbour master and paid to be honest seeing as it is the only safe harbour on the entire foot of Italy - good to know you really are out there on your own!).
Shifting sand banks of Rocella Ionica - I wouldn't want to do this with any weather.
The famous table length pizzas and Zikk Zakk. A great fun meal with everyone.

WEDS 7 MAY: 0700 DEPARTED ROCELLA IONICA, ARRIVED CROTONE 1800 after uneventful passage, a long day but finished off nicely with a last night with everyone, drinks on Amble and exchange of photos etc. Makes me feel quite sad and teary recalling it!

THURS 8 MAY 2014: 0600 DEPARTED CROTONE as sun rose, for a sunny crossing of the Gulf of Taranto.  Said farewell to Brett and Jane, lovely people who were are sure we will see again.  Still got a current against us (turns out the current was against us for the entire trip), managed 5.8 knots motorsailing with light wind closehauled which is about as fast we can get so surprisingly poor boat speeds.

Again the Gulf of Taranto was like glass in the middle - this is how to do it!  I've heard too many horror stories about crossing this stretch of water.

The surreal feeling of nothingness in every direction other than water like glass, perfect reflections of clouds for tens of miles and complete silence other than water slapping on the hull.

Arrived in shitty SANTA MARIA DI LEUCA just before sunset, around 1800. horrible horrible rolly rip off harbour it is.  Zikk Zakk wanted to continue on to Otranto but persuaded them out of it (F4/5 north winds forecast - just because it felt okay in the lee of Italy's boot, I suspected it may not once we turned the corner - and was right I add).  Tied up alongside facing into the roll in an attempt to make the night easier - it wasn't too bad and got away without paying which was great because it is a total rip off.

Victory Day - Tim with his Atlantic Convoy t shirt, our proud ensign and Mussolini's Gateway to Italy in the background - hoorah!
Team Zikk Zakk, and a sad farewell to our travel companions, Tomas, Natasha and their lovely girls.  With an increasingly small weather window to cross the Adriatic from Otranto to Montenegro, we said our goodbyes to Zikk Zakk who decided to err on the side of caution. After spending all day feeling increasingly nervous about the passage and constant checking of the forecasts and running behind schedule as always, I ended up having a near-breakdown in the supermarket at 8pm (we were supposed to be asleep and leaving at midnight) with all my senses telling me it was a bad decision to leave.  We made the decision not to leave and I nursed my bruised macho pride with yet more farewell drinks on Zikk Zakk.

So the following day we departed for Brindisi instead, along with Zikk Zakk, where we spent the best part of a week holed up due to foul weather  (we made the right decision re. the crossing, despite it meaning that we missed the start of our season).  This photo is of our final final farewell to Zikk Zakk, the evening before crossing to Montenegro.

19 MAY 2014: 0430 Leaving Brindisi harbour at sunrise, gentle SE breeze, forecast F2-3 SE (perfect for Katie)

It is chilly out on the water at 5am.

One of our visiting birds - we had 3 passengers during the 120 mile stint.

Sundog and glassy waters.

A pissing and shitting tagged pigeon from Malta hitched a ride for 8 hours, much to the dog's derision, particularly when it kept flying below decks (dogs were resting on our bed)

From 80 miles offshore, you could see the outline of the Albanian and Montenegrin mountains, with Rumlija and Lovcen recognisable - amazing.

"Can I have a wee wee please?"

Albania's haunting mountains from 40 miles offshore.

40 miles from the coast and we could see almost 200 miles of coastline - including the southern Croatian islands, all of Montenegro's coastline and down through Albania. An incredible sight.

The day draws to an end, with 5 hours left to run as the skies cloud up. When darkness fell, it was truly dark with no stars or moonlight and you realise how deserted the Montenegrin and Albanian coasts are, with hardly any lights marking the coast at all.  A distant cruise ship was the only major town for many many miles.  Arrived at the Montenegrin coast at 2300, to the sounds of nightingales and the jackals calling - what an amazing welcome back. Awoke to thick cloud and more storms to come - HOORAY!  We made it.

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Big skies, sandy beaches, proper sea, lots of wind, great company and life's ups and downs: Winter 2013/14

This is our web album with some of the highlights of our sunny winter in Sicily.

Winter in Marina di Ragusa, Sicily

Just when it was all going so well........

Dreamy huge skies, crashing waves, long golden sand beach, great company and plenty of time on our hands.......winter was going so well.  Then one Thursday evening at the beginning of March, our world was turned upside down with 2 simple phone calls.

The first was my (Katie) mum.  Six weeks previously, I had been to hospital for a biopsy on a new mole that had appeared on thigh last spring.  My mum rang to say that the hospital had rang her, wouldn't tell her anymore than to say I had to fly back from Sicily immediately to see the consultant.  There was no messing about with what that meant; the biopsy result was not good news. So, pretty gobsmacked by this, I downed a glass of wine whilst waiting for Tim to return from the shower block.

Armed with a bottle of beer for my hubbie, I told him what had happened and we both sat there feeling pretty stunned - how bad was this?  We didn't know.

Ten minutes later, one of our closest friends rang from Montenegro. This was also very unusual. Tim took the call outside and returned 10 minutes later, looking green.  It had been Michelle, to tell us that  her partner, our dear dear friend David, was dead.  He was 48.

How to deal with that?  Well, it certainly put the first phone call into perspective.  Jesus.  How could life suddenly turn to shit, in an instant?

Well, because it does. It pretty much always does. The rollercoaster that is our lives.

It is now 8 months later and I'm sat in Michelle's house in Montenegro, attempting to look after her dog, while she is back in the UK sorting out yet more fallout from this catastrophe. And we are here, trying to help her get on with her life, without her life partner.  It is tragic on so many levels and I cannot begin to imagine what it would be like to lose the person I was planning to spend the rest of my life with.

I miss David being here, I miss talking to him, mucking about with him, I miss telling him off and I miss having a laugh with him.  How many times I have wished we could turn back the clock, start afresh and things turn out differently - a childlike longing for the impossible.

He should be here.

So another brutal reminder that we are soon to be nothing but memories made my own brush with cancer possibly even more of a eye-opener. Yes, it was cancer, malignant melanoma and they cut it all out, delaying our departure from Sicily but thankfully that was that and life for me goes on.

You never know what is around the corner and we are lucky enough to be able to live out our daily lives in a pretty fantastic way which ten years ago, I'd never have dreamed possible. For David, he was at the turning point of a new life in Montenegro, which he now will never enjoy.

And our lives here are all the poorer for that.

RIP you lovely man. You will always, always be missed.

Friday, 8 August 2014

We got there! Final leg of the Voyage to Sicilia - The Sicilian Coast from Riposto to Marina di Ragusa

So NUTSHELL completion of voyage to Sicily: Went up Etna day after we arrived, incredible blackened moonscape, ashes still hot when you buried your hands in them, wandering off-piste on Etna and getting scared by plumes of steam suddenly appearing from the ground (it was only the day after it had erupted, remember). Cool.

Catania: city-shock, everything too mental and busy and filthy (turned out it was covered in ash from the eruption! durr), port area quite horrible and very noisy, vagabond-type marineros trying to charge us €60 a night to tie up on a crap pontoon (in November), proper fun touristy day getting local bus to Taormina and wandering around.

Syracuse: anchored off incredible historic Ortigia, for 2 nights not enough time to spend there, promised to return on way back, more refugee boats strewn with the detritus of the dispossessed, heart-rending.

Caught in first serious weather of the whole trip on penultimate day, as trying to dodge 2 thunderstorms which combined to create a horrible squall. Went from learning Italian in shorts and tshirt whilst autopilot took care of the driving to full waterproofs, 30 knots, hailstones, quickly building sea, purple lightning within a matter of an hour. Took us a fair bit off course, caught the strong winds on the periphery in our bid to not go through it which probably prolonged the pain. It was all over in a couple of hours but a timely reminder that it was November and time was definitely ticking.

Last day of the journey - an error in chart-reading and incorrect depths on chart (yes both he said), resulted in our first foray into "touching bottom".  No damage done but sent me into a shaking mess whilst we tried to wiggle ourselves out of it. Scary.

VERY relieved to arrive at our winter home of Marina di Ragusa.  Was met by Maggie (of Maggie and Branko, Canadian WaterHobos, who inspired us to come to Sicily and became very dear friends) with nibbles, a huge bottle of frizzante and cold beers (we had run out) as soon as we got the lines on - and the pattern of behaviour for the rest of the winter was set (Maggie feeding us; me poisoning everyone with my cocktails!).

Saturday, 3 May 2014

Photo diary of our Voyage to Sicilia October/November 2013

Just in case I never finish the story, here are the selected highlights:

Voyage to Sicilia Part 6 - The jump to Sicily whilst Etna sends up fireworks!

It is funny thinking about this day now, reading the log book and realising what an adventure it all was, whereas at the time, you’re just in it.

It was a very early start due to the clocks going back (0315) so had to traverse the dodgy entrance in pitch darkness.  The transit (impossible to see in the dark) takes you towards the beach which instinctively feels all wrong – driving the boat out of the harbour and towards land (which is only about 50 metres away) following some vague instructions from the harbour master to make the turn out to sea after passing the groyne on the beach.  We took it very slowly, with ZZ close behind, saw the groyne and passed it, starting to follow the line of beach when the depths started dropping rapidly.  I turned away from the beach, the depths still continued to fall –EMERGENCY STOP.  Then tentatively picked our way out to sea.  It looked like we’d found another sandbank and should possibly have turned earlier.  We didn’t hit it anyway but it was a bit scary and closest we’ve come to grounding.

So, out to sea, waning but still bright moon ascending.  A bit of breeze ahead to keep us motor sailing at 7 knots, nice.  Felt much more confident out there on this occasion – yet again, another beautiful night of the type that as you gaze at it and exhale, you realise you’ve been holding your breath for ages. That inner stillness which is so often sought by all us; I didn’t expect to find it out at sea, at night. 

As we ran along the toe of Italy, the beginnings of daylight revealed steep-sided mountains with a layer of cloud falling off a high, verdant plateau in the distance.  The sunrise touched the mountain tops first, pink and rugged, then slowly filled the land and the sea with warmth and light.

Even 5 miles offshore, the smell of pines, herbs and undergrowth drifted across the water. The toe of Italy is definitely one to be explored by car in the future.

0830: Just turned the toe of Italy – Tim said to me, “can you see anything in the distance”, I looked, “not really”.  “Look again”.

OH MY GOD!  I don’t know what I was expecting to see but through the mist was the HUGE smoking cone of Etna, rising up 50 miles ahead of us.  My heart filled, stabbing with emotion – we are nearly there.  I had been looking forward to this moment, wondering what it would be like to spot Etna from the sea, for a long time – but I never expected it to look anything like as good as this.

The closer we got, the more incredible it looked.  Little did we know, we were looking at the aftermath of the previous day/night’s eruption!  Which was nice.

1200 – Note to self and others – crossing between the toe of Italy and Sicily needs careful consideration in a north westerly and the sea-state bears no relation to forecasts.  I thought we were far enough south for the infamous Straits of Messina to have no effect on our passage – I was wrong.

We were expecting a bit of a blow, good wind, when we cleared the toe of Italy and we were hoping to finally sail without our motor. As predicted, the wind started to rise, quickly.  I got the binoculars out to check out what looked like a load of white water a few miles ahead of us – wow, that was some serious white water.  I called Tim up and we put a reef in the main.  Within 15 mins we were in a crazy white-water ride, 2-3 metres on the beam, horrible horrible sea.  Turned off motor and tried to sail but it was impossible to hold a course, we were all over the place, though persevered with different sail plans for an hour or so.  Gave up in the end and motorsailed on the best course we could make.  Three hours, that’s all it was – but it was enough and a good reminder of what we like – and what we don’t!  And how doing something like that for a few hours is okay, but over a long passage would be total shit.

Anyway, it turned out that it is better to cross the straits lower down – and in a NW wind, funnelling through, and possibly wind against tide which would explain the sea state, it is something we should have avoided had we known.  Hey ho. Not to be repeated.

As we approached Riposto, the coast was swathed in thick mist (which turned out to be the smoke from Etna), with Taormina perched on its cliff top location, just managing to poke through.  The whole coast looked very other-worldly as we neared the good-looking waterfront of Riposto, with the sun struggling through the murk.

Smoke belching from Etna illuminated by the sunset - worth every moment of worry to get here!
Ended up in the corner of the marina in a tiny, motor-boat berth and a horrible swell entering the harbour - for €55 a night!  In October.  We were peeved momentarily but the view of Etna, as the sun began to set with smoke billowing out of the top was just incredible.  And with hindsight, it was by far the best place to view Etna from and isn’t that expensive for Sicily – I would have paid €100 a night for that view.

Zikk Zakk aka Natasha and Thomas
What a day!
Zikk Zakk came over for sundowners.  Felt pretty revved up; fine G&Ts in hand (ice, lime, good gin – if you’re going to drink ‘em, make ‘em good) whilst staring slack-jawed in wonderment as Etna’s belchings turned fire-red as the sun set behind the mountain.  What a day.

Voyage to Sicilia Part 5 - The Bay of Squalls

Friday 25th October 2013 : Crotone to Rocella Ionica 63 miles

(I’m now writing this in hindsight so this is an un-edited extract from my diary which makes slightly more interesting reading than the logbook).

“So it goes like this – alarm goes off at 05.35, an hour beore the sky begins to lighten, awake from fitful, dream-filled sleep, put on thermals and other warming garb, prepare coffee and turn on computers to plot today’s course as Tim takes the dogs out for their morning scavenge walk.

Just before the sky lightens, we spend 15 minutes faffing about with lines, fenders, tender etc and leave harbour just as there is enough light to give inky black waters a silvery gleam.  Avoiding fishing pots, floats and other fishing detritus, we weave our way out to sea and another day of staring at the near horizon begins.

Italy’s distinctive shape makes it a great country to traverse, with huge gulfs to cross so you have several “out of sight of land” days and it forces you to bite off sizeable chunks rather than our preferred 7 hour days.  The dogs are not hugely impressed by the new regime, however.  The recognisable shape of the boot of Italy, its heel, its sole, its toe, make it such a satisfying coast to run along, which makes up for the (sorry Italian folks) boring landscape.”

Notes from logbook:

  • 0720 Rounding Cape Colonne, sun rising through cloud line, orange/red huge fireball.
  • 0923 Just passing Le Castella, castle looks great. It may have been a better move, with hindsight, to split the journey and overnight there, was worried we wouldn’t get a berth.
  • 1220 After 430 miles, finally adjusted autopilot (rudder sensitivity and response) so it stops wandering 10 degrees off course.  Hooray! I can’t believe we haven’t looked at this earlier!
  • 1230 Trying to get dogs to use cat litter. Pointless waste of time and money.
  • 1250 Mountains at foot of Italy coming into view, quite high and impressive this is why it is called the Bay of Squalls.
  • 1430 Stunning coastline along the toe of Italy - mountainous, rugged and familiar. I miss the mountains!

Approach to Rocella Ionica
1600 Zikk Zakk (Norwegian boat) boldly tried to navigate sandbank at Rocella Ionica harbour entrance using their chart plotter (notorious shifting sandbanks which require very careful navigation).  We stood off and watched, it wasn’t looking good.  Luckily (some may say), the harbour shared the same channel (14) as we’d been chattering away on all day so were fully aware of their intentions and the wonderful Francesco, the harbour master, intervened seconds before ZZ grounded.

I wouldn’t want to enter this harbour in any wind or sea state. 

Stayed in RI for an R&R day as fog was forecast (never came). It reminded me a lot of the south of France, with pines and eucalyptus running behind the proper long sandy beach.  Had a great day – beach walked into town (3km), everyone very friendly, nice lunch, took cold beers to sunny beach and swam.  Realised it was the first time we’d ever sat on a beach together – how crazy is that??
Sandy beach, cold beer, best mate by my side (that's Tim, not the beer, honest)

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Voyage Sicilia Part 4 - That dreaded night passage; picking the weather window and biting the bullet

Wednesday 23rd October 2013 - Crossing the Gulf of Taranto - Santa Maria di Leuca to Crotone 
So, I didn't sleep much - fitful, sweaty, dream-filled sleep - but felt amazingly awake, hugely awake by 0245 when we got out onto the silky smooth black waters.  The moon was bright, waning but still full of light and glittered across the calm sea.  Light winds behind us, no cloud cover.  It was so damned perfect.

I stood on the deck in front of the mast, breeze in my face, stars abound and the seascape monochrome silver simply taking it all in and feeling pretty emotional.  This wasn't just okay - it was amazingly beautiful.

The light came quickly.  From the first signs of dawn in the eastern skies to being able to see each other clearly took less than ten minutes.  And then came sunrise.  The most incredible sunrise we've ever seen.  The water was like a mirror and our wake (and that of Zikk Zakk, our Norwegian companions) sent the light shooting off in all directions, a huge dark orange sun peeping above the horizon and the glassy surface of the sea in all directions turned to gold.  No words can do it justice.

And to top it off, in true Disney style, the light then revealed the wildlife of the Gulf of Taranto as a school of dolphins came over to see us, plus a few turtles and some rays!  Totally incredible.

Taken from Zikk Zakk - Monty B on a mirror-like sea at sunrise.

Relieved and exhilarated - the human crew of Monty B at sunrise in the middle of the Gulf of Taranto

This isn't touched up.  It really did look like this.
We reached Crotone at 1430 with 72 miles run.  A great run.