As you go further up the river, both banks are lined with rafted boats. Thousands of them, up to four in each raft. This picture is taken at the eastern end of the isola which runs for about 1.5km in the centre of the river, and ends just before the main motorway bridge which closes the river to anything sporting a mast.
The isola itself has yachts rafted along it. We went up the north side of it, and chickened out of the south side when the depth got to 5m even before we entered the channel proper. Otherwise we carried at least 6m pretty much all the way to the bridge.
Most of the yards lining the banks are private, many of them clubs. You might wangle a berth for a while with fluent Italian and good connections, neither of which we have. We had booked ourselves into Nautilus Marina, about a third of the way up the island, on the north bank. We arrived just before dark and were told to raft to a boat and we'd sort out the paperwork in the morning. In the dark, the place was rather eerie. We found the toilets, but no shower. Only one other boat (a posh motoryacht on the hard) seemed to have anyone aboard. A peek outside found a busy road with no signs of shops, houses or any other life.
In the morning we met the helpful Oliva, with whom we had been exchanging emails. How do we get into Rome? Ah - you go the bridge, about 2km away, and get the bus. And to get to the bridge? Walk, or take the dinghy. Laundrette? No. Shower? No. Clearly this would not be an easy place to spend much time. It's not their business model: these marinas are really boat warehouses, where nobody expects to spend their leisure hours. Instead they untie their lines and go. It's a shame really as it's quiet, very sheltered and the island is pretty. No-one seemed to be anchored anywhere in the river, which isn't that wide; it would need a mooring to reduce your swing, and we don't know if it is permitted.
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We had booked a place at one of the marinas on the Tiber itself. At its mouth, the river (Tevere in Italian) is called the Fiamare Grande. This distinguishes it from the Fiomicino canal which cuts through the back of this cape and joins the river further inland. We have read of many boats which have wintered in the canal, but we had not been able to get a place there. Also it is very close to Fiomicino Airport, and, although we had not seen it commented on, thought that would be unpleasant.
This lighthouse is now out of use, showing how little large shipping now uses ports on this coast. There is a big ship anchorage, and some offshore platforms, in the vicinity, but inshore it's only small fishing boats and pleasure craft.
Entering the river is very straightforward in calm weather. There was a red beacon marking the channel, and we saw least depth 6.3m. The banks are lined with substantial shacks and fishing gantries, but its not an impressive riparian entrance to such a great city, more its neglected back door. Rather like London's attitude to the Thames in that respect!
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Another two miles south is this headland, which is adorned by these splendid modernist houses.
We had a fantastic, gentle sail much of the 25nM south to the Tiber. Cruising chute up, a steady 4 knots, flat sea, warm sun. A great last passage of the season.
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We were going to go into Civitavecchia harbour and take our chances in the yacht basin. But the pilot book describes them as noisy, crowded and very hot. We couldn't raise anyone from the harbour on the VHF, and quailed at the port full of ferries, liners, container ships and the like. So we turned our tired bows the two miles further south into the modern marina at Traiano.
This was the first ordinary marina we'd entered since Genoa. Showers! Washing machines! Most of all, lots of attentive help with the berthing. We're not used to that, the usual British way being to let you get on with it. Of course, you must have some help here often, as there is no way to get your bow lines onto the rings on the quay without help. But here, they come and nudge your stern and help you haul the mooring line out of the water onto the aft cleat - as well as having someone on the quay. They were astonished in the morning when we simply let go our lines and left our slip without any help!
Still - it helps to justify the off-season charge of 50 euros!
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This is the smallest visitable island, and the furthest south. The picture shows the northern tip, where there is a small anchorage. We went round it, trying to keep outside the protected Zone 1 area, where navigation is prohibited. Our target was Cala Spalmatoi, shown as a well-protected inlet in the eastern coast.
The Cala is indeed well protected, but has not only mooring buoys but a ferry dock. Not much room for bigger boats, though a small yacht could pick up one of the buoys. Outside the inlet itself, the water is very deep, almost all over 25m and in many areas over 30m. Although quite a few boats were there when we arrived, many left, presumably with only enough scope for a lunchtime stopover. Despite our 80m of chain, we struggled to find a good spot where it was shallow enough to anchor but we felt far enough off the rocks, particularly given a forecast north easterly. In the end the best place was in the south of the bay, at a spot marked in the pilot book at Cala Volo di Motte. Here we found a ridge of less depth, about 20m, which was much more manageable. Along with six other yachts we had a pleasant, still evening in a gentle north westerly.
Shortly after dark, the wind came round towards the east. So long as it stayed far enough north that our bows pointed not more than 035 degrees, we were comfortable. Any further and the swell came round the point, and the boat started pitching. With memories of our CQR dragging very quickly in pitching waves at Villefranche last year, we were both a bit nervous as the bows rocked up and down. But the new anchor held absolutely solid although the night. The wind never got above a force four (about 18knots), but the pitching swell made everything less than relaxing.
When the dawn came, we saw the three of our companions had gone: the big superyacht had left about 2300. The two smaller boats (both less than 27 foot, who had been our neighbours in Giglio) had wisely retreated into the Cala itself. By 0900 everyone was yawning on deck, pulling up anchors and scattering to look for more restful places.
| Life afloat (containing pilotage notes) |
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