On Sunday morning, we decide to leave Siracusa and make our way 30 miles up the coast to Catania. It's actually calm enough to raise the mainsail while we're still at anchor, and it looks like we'll be burning some diesel for this trip. But just as we're leaving the harbor, Rick notices that the engine isn't putting out any water at the stern. We must have sucked something up into the exhaust on our way out of the harbor. What next? Rick revs the engine in reverse and a bit of water starts splashing out of the exhaust pipe, but not enough. We're almost ready to go back in to Siracusa and dive to have a look, but as a last resort Rick tries clearing it with the dinghy pump. Halleluiah, it works! We turn the corner and point our bow at Mt. Etna.

It's late afternoon when we arrive in Catania, and the Circolo Nautico marina is not answering calls on the telephone or VHF. We decide to wing it and fortunately, someone appears on the dock and motions us toward a vacant space. We're tied up in minutes, but the lazy lines are the filthiest we've ever seen. The next step is to wash off the black mud that has been deposited on our stern and down the sides of the cockpit. We seem to be spending more time washing the boat than sailing it.

We're both pretty tired, but Sunday evenings in Italian towns tend to be interesting, so we decide to go out for a walk. Following the sound of ear-splittingly loud live music, we find ourselves in the midst of a happening scene at a waterfront bar. A band composed of two acoustic guitarists and a female singer has an act that is working unbelievably well. The fans are into it! Most of the young women know the words and are dancing on the spot. The people-watching is equally as good as the music. We are definitely the oldest people in the place, but Rick is as happy as a vongole. After staying long enough to inflict ten years' worth of damage to our eardrums, I manage to drag him away and we plunge into the streets behind the port in search of a trattoria.

We eventually land at a tiny place called Ostier Vinoteca. With almost the entire room given over to a large family gathering, we are relegated to a small table in the corner.



It's a perfect vantage point for seeing what everyone is having for dinner, and we tell the waitress that we'd like the same selection of antipasti that our neighbours are having. She brings us a feast of small crostatas, tiny pieces of lasagna and a large bowl of caponata but alas, we do not get frites as the others do. The waitress is having some trouble finding a white wine for Rick but the owner eventually appears with a bottle of Fiano and pours him a glass. It is so superb that I am envious, although my glass of Nero d'Avola is also very good. As we eat, a chubby-cheeked little girl with a thick pony tail does repeated circuits of the room, gleefully stomping her feet. She is obviously enjoying the sound that her patent leather shoes make on the floor. Our pasta is heavy and bland a bit of a disappointment compared to the antipasti, but overall the evening is a grand success.

The next day, we put on our running shoes and run out of the port, through the Piazza Duomo and down Via Etna.





Ahead of us is a stunning view of Mt. Etna, but not of the main caldera since the streets of the city are oriented with the diversion of lava and escape routes in mind. Etna is Europe's largest active volcano and the current street grid was developed late in the 17th century following a 1669 eruption and 1693 earthquake that virtually wiped out the city of Catania and altogether killed over 30,000 people. We sincerely hope that we never have the opportunity to find out how well the escape routes work. Today the volcano seems quiet, although it's hard to tell whether the ring of clouds that surrounds the summit could actually be smoke. There is still snow at the summit, but the skiing is likely over for the season. (Yes, there are t-bars and a chair lift up there.)

We run to the Villa Bellini, which is a beautiful park named after for the composer Bellini, a native of Catania. (His opera Norma inspired the name of my favourite eggplant and ricotta pizza, but I'd been eating it for two years before I figured that out!) The wide paths of the park are perfect for running, but we don't get up any speed because we are stopping to take photos at about every 100 paces. This one is of the botanical clock, which is replanted each day to show the current date.



We've got so many great many memories of Catania! Meeting Katherine and Leah's ferry from Naples, visiting the Piazza Duomo for the first time with Hans and Dani and exploring the city thoroughly with Nancy and Bob. We're wishing they were with us as we go back to the market, where we buy a huge bunch of fresh garlic, so many vegetables that we can hardly carry everything, and a bag of tiny clams that will be used to make spaghetti vongole with shoots of asparagus for dinner. The spaghetti is a big hit with the skipper. If only we could get these little clams at home! That's an opportunity for someone.

The next morning we head back to Via Etna, but take a more leisurely pace. We drop in to the TIM store to recharge our internet plan, but things get stalled when Rick decides he wants to buy a SIM card for his tablet. One clerk is struggling to process Rick's order and the other is arguing with a frustrated woman who is having trouble with her phone. A queue forms behind us. Suddenly a tiny elderly man, dressed formally in a suit and a hat, bursts into a torrent of Italian, stamping his cane on the floor. Clearly he doesn't feel that he should be waiting and he is spitting mad. We would be happy to give him our place, but the clerk is already in the middle of our transaction. I try to look appropriately apologetic and say "I'm sorry sir" in Italian, but it only makes matters worse. "Do you speak English?" he asks. "Well, I'm 84 years old and I can't stand here and wait! I'm supposed to get priority! It's the law!" He is in a real fury, stomping his cane repeatedly. The clerks and the other customers are obviously chuckling, but the manager comes out from behind the counter and pulls him out of the line. Strangely, the store does not have any seats, but she takes him to a stand-up table and helps him. Later, I go to the table and apologize for having created a delay. He is delighted to hear that we are Canadians and asks us not to leave until he has a chance to talk to us. Suddenly the epitome of charm, he introduces himself as John/Giovani and tells us that he has nieces and nephews in Toronto. He lived in Malta for many years and worked for an airline, which explains his nearly perfect command of English.

On our way back to the boat, we buy some local calamari at the market and fry it up for supper. It turned out pretty well too! Tomorrow we might sail to Reggio Calabria, but the weather is on the edge. Maybe we'll have to spend another day in Catania. Things could be worse.

P.S. We've included a few photos of our previous visits to Catania and Mt. Etna in the gallery.

Rick's Cruising Notes

We stayed in Porto Nuovo; recommended by Catania Yachting. Well protected except small surge when winds from the south. 40 Euros per night in May, includes water and electric. Most yard services available in the port. Excellent market (must see) near the Piazza Duomo. 15 min walk to Duomo. Good chandleries. Great restaurants. The bar at the port was packed our first night and there was a live band, which was very good. The crowd of 20-49 year olds agreed.