After the delights of Rome and the terror of the turbulent flight to Palermo, the double train journey from the airport to Cefalu and the dinghy ride off the beach to the anchored Ruaival off Cefalu harbour, our Sicilian cruise began in style.

We spent the first day exploring Cefalu, with its narrow streets and strangely plain cathedral, while Robbie valiantly climbed the rock next to the town, helpfully named 'La Rocca'. The following day we left and headed for the Aeolian Island of Lipari, where we moored bows- to to a pontoon, next to four Turkish gullets, full of jolly holidaymakers. Lipari was a busy and interesting port, where we. Did some provisioning prior to our investigation of the rest of the islands. We stayed for two nights, then had a spirited sail across to the tiny island of Panarea, which we variously called Panacea, and other misnomers. It was tiny, but it had a really good bay for anchoring in, so we stayed two days, did some end- of- day swims, and had barbecued food from the Cobb or the Magma gas barbecue in the evenings. Then we motored north in no wind and approached the spectacular island of Stromboli, and sailed round it clockwise, to see the west side of the island as the volcano visibly poured out stones and dust and sometimes even with red flames and puffs of smoke. The mountainside below the volcano was alive with little boulders descending with puffs of dust down the smooth slope, finally arriving in the sea with a steamy splash! One of the wonders of the world, I thought, a live volcano. Never seen one before!

So after that we decided to visit Vulcano, the most southerly of the islands, with its plumes of smoke and lava fields. There we anchored once again, in a big commercialised bay full of cafes, pedalos for hire, and numerous other yachts and motorboats of all descriptions. We decided not to bother climbing the volcano, just to admire it from afar. The supermarket was a short walk from the harbour, so we set off with various trolleys and bags and came back laden with supplies so we wouldn't need to reprovision again for a wee while.

The wind changed to the north, which made the bay untenable, so we sailed north first to Lipari, where we couldn't find a suitable anchoring spot, then towards Panarea again, pulling out the main for a spot of sailing. Alas, the in-mast reefing main lost its connection at the foot, which meant we could neither use it nor roll it away, so we headed for shelter and Robbie fixed it with a pair of pliers. so off we sailed and spent another night in the bay at Panerea, rather alarming catabatic winds notwithstanding. We had a barbecue meal then hunkered down for the night, as we were to set sail by 5am for Taormina in the Straits of Messina, a journey of around 60 miles.

Not much wind, so we motored to the entrance to the Strait, which is quite narrow and beset with overfalls. The tide swept us on, and the wind, which was forecast to get a little stronger as the day went on, got much stronger, so by mutual agreement we decided to head for ReggioCalabria for shelter out of the heavy chop.

We got into the tiny yacht marina, and no sooner had we tied up than a local character turned up, offering all sorts of goods and services. This guy got Rod Heikell's seal of approval for some reason, so we made the mistake of using him to help locate camping gaz cylinders. It was a get rich quick scheme, as Robbie came back having been pressured into buying things he didn't want, and taken through this horrible town to this guy's warehouse. His driving was so bad the police stopped him for nearly causing an accident, and the camping gaz cylinders were expensive and the wrong size.

So when he arrived again at 7am the next morning and threw two bags of croissants on to the deck, we were not best pleased. He turned up again demanding money for them, so we gave him back the bags of croissants, at which point he had a change of heart and said oh keep them anyway, and threw in the two bags the boat next door had refused as well. That guy will be the reason none of us ever want to go to Reggio again.

We left around 8 am and set the genoa and running backstays for a spirited sail south towards Syracusa on Sicily. It was a lovely sunny day, the seas built behind us and the wind was in the 20 knot range most of the day. A long day, 12 hours at sea, near the end of which the wind died a little so we put on the engine and were in sight of Syracusa when something went wrong with the autopilot, so we steered manually into this beautiful harbour just as the sun was setting, to the accompaniment of a concert on shore. We had a simple meal of spag bols, for the second night running, good on-passage food. And collapsed into bed!

The next day was calm, and hot, and we went into the town to meet friends of Robbie and Alyson from Alloa, then back to the boat for a splendid Cobb barbecue of a very tasty chicken.

Sunday dawned sunny, and stayed that way all day. We went ashore in the dinghy for lunch with the Alloa friends, in a dim backstreet restaurant where the staff were more interested in the blaring TV in the corner than us, their only table of customers! We split up after lunch and Ju and I took a walk round the island on which the old city of Syracusa stands, went aboard the three-master tall sail training ship in the harbour, and were enjoying a cooling Coke Zero at the cafe beside the dinghy dock, when Robbie suddenly appeared, running, calling to us that the yacht was dragging her anchor, and that we had to get back out to her at once. We had of course noticed the increasing force of the wind, from the south, which meant that there was an increasing fetch and we had watched Ruaival from the dock, holding her own in the conditions.

We all scrambled into the dinghy and set off from the dock as fast as we could. as we came out, Robbie identified the boat by her mast and radar, and to our horror she had dragged right over towards the edge of a dock, and although she was still bobbing up and down reassuringly - she wasn't aground - it was a matter of minutes before she would hit it, with unimaginable results. The sea was wild as we ploughed into it in the dinghy, the waves breaking all over me as I was in the front of it. We rounded the corner of the dock and saw that she was still about ten metres from the dock, and that there was a man aboard her, helping a police launch rig a towing line to her bows. I started waving, and calling, but the wind and sea were so loud it was a moment or two before the man aboard saw us. We took the dinghy alongside and Robbie leapt aboard, Alyson followed and finally Ju. The much lighter dinghy now started bucking up and down so much I could not be sure that I would make it if I tried to get aboard too. So I stayed in the dinghy, holding on for dear life as the others got on with the rescue. Robbie started the engine, Alyson raised the anchor with the help of the young Frenchman, and the yacht powered forward under her own steam, towing the dinghy. Danger for the moment passed, and I was helped out of the dinghy by a rope round me, and the ladder in place. I heaved a sigh of relief, and realised that I was completely drenched with sea water.

Robbie and Alyson reanchored the boat with fifty metres of chain, and we all heaved a sigh of relief. Ju located a bottle of red wine for our rescuer, Justin, from a neighbouring boat, who had had the courage to leave his own boat in thirty knots of wind, and board ours, and start the rescue attempt with the policia maritima's launch. He smiled and jumped into his dinghy and was off back to his own boat.

Much later we had a quiet supper aboard and went early to bed. But first we followed quite a few of the other boats' example and motored across the wide bay to anchor again, but this time close in to the shore the wind was coming from. A quiet calm night ensued.

On Monday morning we watched as every one of the yachts that had done that upped anchor and headed back across the bay. So after breakfast we did the same, taking three attempts to anchor again safely.

Then we watched two ocean going tugs assist the three masted sail training ship out of its berth and into the bay. Quite a busy morning.

We went ashore and walked up to the archaeological park which contained not only a Roman amphitheatre, but also a Greek theatre, which was being made ready for a performance of Aida in a few days' time. Then on to the catacombs, with evidence of one of the very earliest Christian churches dating from 69AD.
We motored north the next day to a small bay beside a town called Brucoli, and enjoyed some more sunshine, and having the bay to ourselves as the only yacht, although there were the dreaded jetskis everywhere, and lots of small fishing boats.

Then after a couple of days back to Syracusa, then the bus to Palermo, after a thoroughly enjoyable sojourn with Robbie and Alyson aboard Ruaival!

Palermo was lovely, our hotel was well chosen, in the centre of the old town and near to most of the attractions, like the Palatine Chapel, one of the most impressive religious buildings I have ever visited. Completed in 1147 or thereabouts, its mosaic decoration was as vivid as if it had been completed yesterday.

Then, at last, on 10 July, on the plane home, browned to a crisp by the hot July sun!