Friday 30 May 2014 - Vernazzo

We get up fairly early for us at 7:30, with a view to leaving in good time and making a decent passage.  We are a bit stymied by the fact that the office opens at 9:15, almost an hour late!  You would think they would be keener on us paying their exhorbitant fees (of which one third is for port services- eg mooring help, electricity etc).  Finally we pay and we make our way to the fuel pontoon.  Although the fuel gauge has moved off completely full, it is showing only 1/3 of a tank used, whereas we know from the engine hours we have used, it is 40% full.  Our calculation is right, and we put in nearly 90 litres of diesel.  Well at least we now have a full tank.  The weather forecast is for no wind, so we will need it.

We set off in the sun, but it does cloud over from time to time.  We are motoring at over 6 knots.  We are uncertain where to go.  Richard has identified a place called Vernazzo, one of the Cinque Terre villages, built into the hills on the coast.  They have no roads going to them and can only be visited by foot, boat or railway.  The pilot book raves about the place and the Green Guide gives it two stars.  But the problem is that it is a very small harbour and we may not be able to moor anywhere.  But we decide to try.

So just at about lunch time we approach the harbour.  The approach is not propitious.  Firstly we can barely make out where the entrance is.  When we do we can see that the harbour is very tiny indeed, but there appears to be space on a harbour wall referred to in the book at a Mole.  But we are uncertain where to go.  We know that we are supposed to go near the port entrance and moor stern to with our anchor holding the bow.  But Richard thinks he sees laid lines further on and heads for that.  At this point one of the local boat taxi and tour men heads our way and says we have to go where we originally looked.  He then helps and directs us in.  We are making a terrible hash of it.  I have let the anchor down and am feeding out tons of chain in this tiny harbour.  Richard keeps saying it is not enough.  It takes us over half an hour to moor and people on the dock come and help, taking lines, moving small boats out of the way and helping Richard on to the dock.  One helper is an English man who chats to us.  He has a classic wooden boat in England.

So finally we are in.  But we are bouncing all around.  We keep putting more and more lines on.  We have the usual two to the back.  Then we have two to each centre cleat by way of springs.  But we are still snatching and bouncing all over the place.  But we don’t know what else to do.  Also the pilot does say that the harbour is uncomfortable, but worth it.  So to prove that we must get off the boat.

This is our next problem.  We are too far from the wall for me to step ashore.  Richard just manages it, but with a hand from someone on shore.  The boat is moving about so much, that the board is going to be dodgy, but it is the only way.  In the end, we rig the board up to a wooden strip, large enough to step on about 18in from the top of the wall.  The idea is to run across it before the boat jerks out away for the wall.  Somewhat risky, but it seems to work.

So after a quick lunch on sandwiches I made earlier we walk the plank and go ashore.  This is a very beautiful place.  It is a typical multicoloured town perched into the hills right on the sea front.  There are cute little brightly coloured fishing boats on the shore and a cave like structure to walk through to get to a beach.  It is heaving with tourists who mainly come on a big ferry which moors outside the harbour wall.  

We have a walk along the main streets and then up the hill with lots of steps to the castle.  There is a footpath that goes between all the five villages, but that is obviously a major hike.  We see a lot of people properly dressed for hiking who are obviously doing that.  I am not keen to even try the first part, so we give that a miss.

After a good walk around, a drink and an ice cream we decide to go back to the boat.  But I am still feeling rocky.  So I don’t go aboard immediately.  Instead Richard gets me water and a seasick pill, just in case.  I am not certain I want to cook, but the plan is to eat on board, and really the restaurants here are all very touristy.  I do stop in a shop and buy some truffle scented oil.  I hope it is good.  Richard tries the local white wine.  It is pretty bad.

Back on the boat we decide to open a bottle of good red wine (from our trip to Burgundy) and have a few nibbles before dinner.  As we sit in the cockpit having our drink an American couple come and talk to us.  We invite Debbie and Jim on board.  They are fascinating.  They come from Seattle and have sailed a 22 foot boat from there to the South Pacific, via Mexico.  They are really adventurous and tell us all about it.  It sounds amazing, but I am not interested in spending 42 days at sea!  As we chat another American couple stop to chat asking about our boat.  Also a group of French young people come and ask about our flag.  We have had this before.  People do not recognise the Red Ensign as a British flag.  Even experienced sailors like Debbie and Jim didn’t know about the different ensigns and the way the term Union Jack came about.  Funny that.

Richard has tried to make the boat more comfortable.  He has put yet another line on from the bow to the further side of the Mole and has put a snubber on the anchor.  It is a bit better, and that and the pill make me comfortable enough to make dinner.  So we have our duck breast a l’orange and asparagus.  All quite good if I say so myself (the editor agrees).

Now my only worry is how we are going to get out of here tomorrow.  I am convinced that the anchor is fouled.  I let out huge amounts of chain, but I cannot pull any in.  Richard says it is just because of the way we have reversed so far towards the sea wall that the chain is now taut.  We shall see tomorrow.  Now we must just be rocked to sleep.  Oh and by the way, our internet device seems to work here, at least better than it did in Genova or Rapallo.