Dire Straits
30 July 2012 | Straits of Messina
Ange
The Straits of Messina run between Sicily and mainland Italy and come with a long-standing bad rep. Homer wrote in The Odyssey about Scilly, the 6 headed monster "like nightmares of ferocity", representing the whirlpools and treacherous currents in the Strait. With different salinity, the two adjacent seas suck and blow great volumes of water through the Straits.
An earthquake last century did away with the worst of the whirlpools, however still unnerving for Murihiku and her crew tootling along into the "deep gullets of black death".
Weather and tides meant a 5am Sunday morning start, slipping out of our marina and along the northern coast towards the Straits. Italian boats with families aboard were out already, happily waving and fishing for Sunday lunch. Dolphins came and played in our bow waves. In contrast Deborah and I were quiet, each feeling all too familiar knot in the stomach, which tightened when we felt the boat start to be pulled into the Straits. We watched our speed climb, from 5 knots we hit 6, then 7, 8, and peaked about 9 knots, with barely any input from the engines. There were whirlpools, and strange currents, turning us this way and that, involving a lot of wheel turning and grim faced hanging on.
But, in hindsight, it was okay too, lots of space in the Straits to go sideways a bit, and a big-assed shipping channel right down the middle helps keep ferries and ships out of the way.
After about 30 minutes, the water widened and the currents eased. We passed some swordfish fishing boats, with a crane-like structure overhanging their boat and a fish spotter lurching metres above ready to shout and point where the fish were. Swordfish have a life-limiting habit of drowsing on the surface of the waters of the Straits on hot days.
It was a relief to finally cross the shipping channel and head into our next port of call, Reggio di Calabria, a utilitarian port. For the first time we just said no to the guy directing us to the tiny spot, and vigorously pointed instead to the large gap. He relented and we backed in, unwilling for any extra stress.
Reggio di Calabria is a strange town, levelled by earthquakes and wars, and charmless. In search of gelato, we encountered an Italian holiday beach nightmare, where paunchy middle aged men with gold chains nestled into greying chest hair and tiny speedos mingled lasciviously with teenagers and bad music.
We did eventually find a nice seaside restaurant to celebrate our third anniversary, and a good vegetable market and butcher. Fruit and vegetables arrive at the market ready to eat; the fruit smells ripe and juicy like an orchard packhouse. We've been enjoying fresh borlotti beans with tomatoes, zuchinni and peppers. Most pleased, too, to have a good bbq aboard.
Time to stop writing, tomorrow the "Golfo di Squillace" or the Gulf of Squalls. Several sailors coming in the other direction have warned us about this stretch, as the wind apparently unexpectedly slams into boats at high speed. The forecasts are all good for tomorrow. Will post more from the other side, hopefully not via a Ouija board.