Let's face it, we'll never catch up. Who on earth ever does, really? But I'm not talking about catching up on the many things we should be doing, and aren't. I'm referring to catching up on this blog, where for 8 years we've tried to maintain a reasonably faithful journal of our travels. Somehow, we got knocked off the rails with our writing. The long, tough and busy winter was partly to blame, as was the sadness caused by too many things happening that we wished hadn't. I've just recently realized that I need to be in a reasonably positive frame of mind in order to write anything. And of course, we have to carve out the time to sit down and do it. This is the first day in months that both of those things have happened simultaneously. So here is my first attempt at catching up -not on everything that has happened since our last posting, but at least on some of the highlights.

We arrived back in Marina di Ragusa two weeks ago and we're finally almost ready to throw off the docklines. This is actually the second time we've been here this year. On our earlier visit, we arrived on March 26th and quickly came to the realization that almost none of the work that we'd commissioned to have done on Aisling during the winter had been completed. This wasn't a complete surprise, since we knew that the boatyard was behind schedule because of the weather. Yes, Sicily had a tough winter too, although here that just means lots of rain rather than the mountains of snow that we got on the east coast of Canada. Anyway, as a result of this bad weather, Aisling was still high and dry, and likely to be that way for at least another two weeks. So we moved into a nice apartment on the hill above the marina, resolving to take a break and enjoy a bit of a vacation. We visited our friends, hosted a couple of dinner parties, ate lots of pizza and (it must be said) drank lots of wine. I worked at improving my Italian and Rick worked on the boat. We went running in the mornings and drank cappuccino in the Marina Bar. We learned to make our own decent imitation of cappuccino using a stovetop Moka. But by mid-April, all of this was starting to wear a bit thin. From the lack of progress in the yard, it was obvious that we wouldn't be sailing anytime soon.

Luckily, we had other plans anyway. On April 15th we flew to Marseille in the south of France. Our friends Ni and Krissy met us at the airport and together we drove to La Grande Motte, where we had tickets to attend the multi-hull boat show, aka "le Salon International du Multicoque".

You may be wondering why two people who own a very aged Slocum mono-hull would want to attend a boat show dedicated only to multi-hulls. The answer lies in the trip to Malta that we took with Ni and Krissy onboard Finalmente last October. Finalmente's performance in light wind and comfortable accommodations got us thinking: maybe we should consider moving to a multihull? We'd been toying with the idea of looking for a boat that had a bit more space to accommodate our family and guests. And it isn't only Aisling that's getting old: the idea of a few more amenities and labour-saving devices is definitely becoming more appealing as we get older. We weren't completely sure what kind of boat we wanted, but we hoped that going to the show would help us make the decision.

Mention the south of France to most people and it conjures up visions of poppy fields, delicious French food, good wine and glimpses of the rich and famous. Being in La Grande Motte was nothing like that. It's an artificially created resort with weird architecture and little of interest to see. We had our first meal (and definitely the most affordable) in a pizza joint, where the wine was off and the mosquitoes were plentiful. Nonetheless, we had a great time. During the next three days, we made our home at the local Best Western, which was actually pretty nice. Here's Rick reading the newspaper by the pool in the morning.



We learned a lot about multihulls, had some great meals, and enjoyed a visit with Rick's brother Al, who came down from Paris for the weekend. On Friday afternoon, we went for a test sail on an Outremer. On Saturday afternoon, Rick and I drove all the way to Canet to test sail a Catana 47 and tour the Catana factory. The bonus was the view of the Pyrenees behind endless fields of vineyards on the drive to Canet, and a nice lunch in Leucate on the way back. Meanwhile, Al, Ni and Krissy stayed behind and did their own test sail on a Nautitech Open. Krissy snapped this photo of Al at the helm.



That night, we reconvened for a wonderful dinner at the local Yacht Club, joined by Al's friend Janice. As we walked to the car, a large flock of flamingoes flew overhead. A nice end to the evening.

I don't imagine many people attended the show on Sunday. We woke to torrential rain and fierce thunder, which continued as we drove toward Italy with Ni and Krissy. Our destination: the beautiful Ligurian town of Santa Margherita, where Ni and Krissy's daughter Nicole makes her home. Just as we crossed the border into Italy, the sun came out. We arrived in Recco just in time for an early dinner at one of Ni's favourite places, Pizzeria del Ponte, where we had delicious pizzas and Genovese focaccia. And the wine was good too. Viva l' Italia!



Next up, our tour of Liguria and Tuscany. That is, if we manage to do a bit more catching up before we set sail!

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.

To my surprise, we actually did sail away from Marina di Ragusa yesterday morning. (The photo above was taken by our friend Steve on "At Last" as we were leaving- thanks Steve!) Most of our friends thought this was a tad early to be leaving, and I fear they may be right. Of the seven previous seasons that we've sailed in the Mediterranean, only once before have we managed to leave the dock this early. That was in 2008, when Wally and Martha joined us in the south of Spain and helped us get the boat ready. As I recall, we were bundled up in foulies, hats and gloves for the passage to Ibiza.

Why leave so early? This year, we've got a couple of good reasons. One is that our daughter Katherine and her fiancé Martin are getting married in August, so we'll be flying back to Nova Scotia in mid-June to help with preparations. That means we have limited cruising time, and we need to get the boat to Rome before we leave. We also hope to meet Rick's sister Lyn and her husband Kevin somewhere on the west coast of Italy in mid-May. We expect to have some weather-related delays at various ports as we make our way north, but we have lots of little maintenance jobs to do to pass the time, and lots of books and movies onboard.

Considering the social schedule in the marina, it's astonishing that we got away at all. The biggest event of the month was held on Tuesday night, when the "Sailing Nomads" gave their final performance, at the restaurant Quatro Quarti on the waterfront promenade. This talented group of musicians, including sax, guitar and keyboard players plus vocalists, are all cruisers who spent the winter at Marina di Ragusa. Gary from Australia on Neptune II, is a world class sax player who was a studio musician in his pre-cruising life. Peter, our neighbour on Victoria, is also terrific on guitar. The Nomads put on a fantastic show to a packed house.




Then for a finale, Quatro Quarti's manager Theresa performed two beautiful songs with the daughter of the restaurant's owner.



There are more photos of the event in our photo gallery. A great time was had by all, and an excess of fun was had by some. Fortunately, everyone made it safely across their passerelles to their boats. Sadly, the members of the Sailing Nomads will now go their separate ways to various corners of the world, and we will not hear their like again.

On Wednesday we were invited to tea with John and Jan on Brigantia, and spent a pleasant hour in their cozy enclosed cockpit as the wind howled outside. The next afternoon the weather was better, and we had a few friends in our own cockpit for coffee and cinnamon rolls.



On Thursday evening, we lingered at a gathering hosted by Ni and Krissy on Finalemente, knowing we should get to bed early but hating to say goodbye. In spite of it all, we managed to pull away from the dock at 7.40 the next morning. With the wind behind us and a little boost from the motor, we arrived in Siracusa before 5 p.m., with dolphins jumping beside Aisling on the approach. There would certainly be no difficulty finding a place to drop our anchor, since there were only two other boats in the harbor. It was "Liberation Day" in Italy, the anniversary of the day the Italians began a revolt that resulted in the end of the Nazi/Fascist regime. We could hear the sounds of bells, music and celebration drifting across the water.

Our anchor bit well on the first attempt, so we decided to launch the dinghy and go ashore for a while. With the wind piping up a bit, getting the dinghy in the water was a bit of a tricky maneuver, but everything worked beautifully. Rick was feeling pleased at how well we were managing this "cruising stuff". That is until the clip on the dinghy painter snapped. I was on my hands and knees wiping up some dirt from the deck when Rick yelled "Bon, we've lost the dinghy". I wheeled around to watch our dinghy (which, I might add, we'd just had reconditioned at a cost of $385 euros) blowing out to sea, with the motor attached . The only possible ways to retrieve it were to swim after it, which Rick contemplated for about 3 seconds ( not a good idea in April) or to fire up Aisling's motor to chase it. I don't think we've ever before pulled in the anchor so quickly, but with 140 feet of chain it felt like a lifetime! Fortunately, we caught up to the dinghy in minutes, and it was easy to snag. Then we headed back to re-set the anchor, and to wash off the large quantity of mud that we had deposited on our foredeck because we had hauled in the anchor without washing it. And then the washdown hose broke.... yup, maybe Rick has to re-think whether we really have this cruising stuff down pat.

In the end, we abandoned the idea of going ashore, pulled a lasagna out of the freezer for dinner and turned in early. We woke in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy rain pouring on the decks and a loud bumping noise coming from somewhere on the boat. It took us a quarter of an hour to trace it to a piece of wood moving around in the cockpit locker. Then, we heard water dripping and realized that the dodger was leaking again. Sometimes, it's hard to get a good night's sleep on this boat! Luckily, the rain was a clean rain, and not the horrible muddy stuff that deposits nasty brown spots on everything. So our decks are sparkling clean again. Isn't cruising fun?

This morning, we finally did go ashore and went for a run. A rat sat at the edge of Arethusa's fountain, nonchalantly taking a drink, proving that nasty things hide below the surface of even the nicest places. Next a bit of shopping, then cappucino at the Caffe del Ponte, then a quick trip to the market. But alas, we were not able to get the smoked mozzarella that we love so much, because Gaetano's place has become so popular that the line-up stretched into the street.



We came home with two orata (sea bream) from our favourite fish-monger, which we will cook for dinner tonight. Good thing we weren't planning to go out, because it's pouring rain again.

Rick's Cruising Notes

No change here since previous notes in 2009, 11, 12 and 2013 . Anchored in 30' , close to canal in mud, good hold. Dinghy dock in canal on left, past first bridge. Lock dinghy and tanks well as there have been thefts here. Great chandlery on Via Savoia (near the water end of the street). Laundry available on the mainland side, take Ponte Umberto off Ortigia and it's a short distance on the left

Just as we are setting the anchor in Siracusa harbor, Rick's cellphone rings. It is Kathy MacGillivary, already waiting for us on the dock. "Jeez, I can see why you guys like hanging out here so much" she says. "This place is freakin' amazing!" I dash to make up a berth in the forward cabin while Rick launches the dinghy and heads to shore to pick her up.

Kathy bounces onboard, bubbling with excitement and looking fantastic in the new clothes she has bought in London. "I found a wine store" she says, passing me a bag with two bottles of Sicilian wine; one red and one white. She had also gone to the Binnacle before leaving Halifax and picked up a new fitting for our spinnaker pole. "I'll be your easiest guest ever" she promises, and when we discuss the itinerary for her visit she quickly endears herself to the skipper by nixing my suggestion of visiting the archeological park (which, although boasting an impressive Greek theatre, is a long hot walk from the harbour). Our time together will be short, since Kathy must fly to Barcelona for a business meeting in less than three days. "It would be nice to go for a sail if we could, though."

We decide to eat onboard, beginning with wine and antipasto in the cockpit as we admire the view of Ortygia, Siracusa's historic district, onshore. After dinner, we sit up talking in the cockpit late into the night, long after Rick has gone to bed, finishing off the red wine and opening another long-forgotten bottle purchased during our visit to the Spanish Alpuharas with our friends Doug and Liz in 2007.

The next morning, we are all up early for a run along the Ortygia waterfront in the sunshine. I'm feeling timid about running over the cobblestones, having barely recovered from a nasty fall in Marina di Ragusa, but I quickly relax and enjoy the experience. Kathy is exuberant. Twenty minutes into the run she spots a flat piazza, drops to the ground and does a few dozen push-ups. Has this woman even heard of jet-lag?

We have come prepared with our knapsacks, and make a stop at the morning market. We drop in to the cheese shop and buy baked ricotta, smoked mozzarella and salami. "Where have you been?" the young man at the counter asks Rick. "I haven't seen you in nearly a week." Continuing through the market, we buy mounds of fruit, a kilogram of melt-in-your-mouth ciliegino (cherry) tomatoes, three orata (sea bream) and much much more. Next, a walk through the streets of Ortygia.

I pause in front of a hairdressing salon, remembering that it has now been nearly seven weeks since my last haircut. The girl at the door makes it clear that if I want my hair cut they must do it "subito" (soon) , since they are about to close for the weekend. "Do it" says Kathy, "We'll go back to the boat and get lunch ready, then Rick can pick you up at the marina".

Unfortunately, I have not had a chance to look up the phrase "Not too short, please!" in my phrasebook. Shortly after we landed in Spain in 2007, I had the misfortune to nod with too much enthusiasm when a matronly-looking hairdresser held up her scissors and asked "Pequeno?" The results were so disastrous that I was obliged to wear a ball cap every time I went out for the next two weeks. So now, having placed myself at the mercy of this unknown Sicilian hair stylist, I sit worrying for a full ten minutes while he helps a friend choose a necklace from a small jewelry display at the back of the salon. He nods at my plastic-caped reflection in the mirror and holds up a finger. "Arrivo!" (I'm coming!) Fortunately, when he eventually arrives, it is clear that I am in good hands. He even knows the English word for "short" (surely the most useful word in any hair stylist's vocabulary!)

He decides to tell me a little story. "You understand a little Italian, don't you?" he asks. (Most Sicilians seem to assume that everyone understands a little Italian, perhaps because Italian is in some respects a "lingua franca" in this country where many regions also have their own languages or dialects.) When I nod, he continues. "My friend has just been asking me how I can communicate with all the stranieri (foreigners) that come in here. I told him there's always a way. A few weeks ago, a Chinese woman came in here. She was asking me for something and I didn't understand. She was asking for the toilet, but she was speaking Chinese, not even English. Finally she did like this..." (he lifts his leg)"...and said "pssssh..." I howl with laughter and he is satisfied that I have understood. He looks at his friend with satisfaction. "You see, she understands." I leave with one of the best haircuts I have had in years, at less than half the price I would have paid in Halifax, still laughing as I walk toward the dock.

Back at the boat, Kathy has prepared a delicious tomato and cheese salad, garnished with a few olives and some delicious Sicilian olive oil that Katherine had left in the galley. After lunch, I am ready for a nap, but Kathy hops into the dinghy and helps Rick scrub the sides of the boat, removing the muddy stains left by the marina's lazy lines. By now I'm wondering how I can convince her to cancel her trip to Barcelona!

In late afternoon, we dress up and head back to shore for a little shopping. Kathy is looking for ideas for her maternity wear business, as well as things to wear in Barcelona, but she periodically points out things that I should try on. "I used to love picking out things for you when I went on buying trips with Rick" she says. Ah yes, those were the good old days! An hour later, even Rick is carrying a Zara bag.

We head for the Piazza Duomo and peek into the cathedral, where a wedding is in progress while a few tourists are still roaming the side aisles. We tiptoe into the back corner to show Kathy the ancient baptismal font, then go back into the piazza to soak up the ambience.





Eventually, we settle ourselves at a small café. "Can I treat you to a pizza?" asks Kathy. ""I'd love to try a real Italian pizza". Unfortunately, the waitress tells us that it is still a bit too early for pizza, but she brings a small plate of antipasti with our drinks. Soon, the wedding guests pour out onto the steps of the cathedral and the waiters and waitresses rush out of the restaurant to see the bride and groom.



This is clearly an elegant affair, and we're delighted when the wedding party heads straight for our café. The bridesmaids are happy to let me take this photo, and their friends seem tickled pink that I want them in the picture too!



Now it is definitely late enough for pizza. We decide that our fish will keep until the next day, and head for "Il Gattopardo" just on time to get the last unreserved table. It is already dark by the time we get back to the boat. (This is a good illustration of why it is wise to turn on the anchor light before leaving the boat, even if you don't plan on staying ashore for dinner!)

The next morning, Kathy takes another run through Ortygia and I meet her a little later, bringing along her bag and a change of clothes. We stop at a little café, where I have a cappuccino while Kathy ducks into the washroom to change. I spot some unfilled cannoli shells and decide to introduce Kathy to my latest obsession. I have now figured out that the best cannoli are the ones that are filled on the spot, just before you eat them. Knowing that Kathy does not often eat sweets, I decide against the full sized cannoli, but have two of the small ones brought to the table before she emerges from the washroom. Her eyes widen when she tastes the first bite. "Can we order another one?"

We intend to do more shopping in the modern section of Siracusa, but everyone we ask tells us that the best shopping really is on Ortygia. So, after dropping in at the bus station to confirm the schedule for Kathy's bus to Catania airport the next morning, we head back over the bridge. By the time we phone to ask Rick to pick us up at the dock, Kathy has some new clothes to wear in Barcelona and I have a new pair of soft green chinos.

After lunch, we decide to go out for a sail. It has been years since Rick and I have "gone for a sail" simply for the joy of it. As we sail out of Siracuse harbour I recall the lovely days when we have sailed out of Halifax harbour to Herring Cove. Kathy takes the wheel and we enjoy the ride.



The day is perfect and Aisling's bottom is clean, so we are able to reach speeds of nearly 5 knots even though the wind speed is less than 10 knots. So often, we resort to the motor to make our passages faster. We resolve to slow down and enjoy the ride a bit more often.

That evening, Rick cooks the orata in lots of lemon, oregano and olive oil and we serve it with roasted potatoes and fennel, carrots and beans. It is a quiet night, because we will have an early wake-up call the next morning. Before 8 a.m., I am waving goodbye to Kathy as Rick ferries her to shore and finds her a taxi. She will have a long wait at the bus station, and an even longer wait at the airport, but she is not taking any chances on missing her plane. At 10 a.m., I receive a text from her. It says, "I just had a large cannoli!"