Madame Geneva

She came in the night.  Merde.  Now that is a shit that I know.  Cold French winds blowing down into and beyond the Gulf of Lion. Skirts sloshing, the whistling is far away but approaching.  We are tethered together, bound one by one in front of the old stone wall in Alghero.  The water comes first, like mice scurrying, rushing past the bow.  Blindfolded prisoners to her approach.  Halyards slapping in time to a crowd shouting. And the odd sensation that we are not the crowd.

When at last her fingers touch, we sway to her movement.  Inevitable.  We ride as if at sea. In the bow, the water moves fast.  Our aged and hardened hand-built neighbor smacks down, riding each wave.  So closely are we moored, we feel the shivers and shakes of those tied, bow and stern.  Our fate is the same.  Nationalities are of little matter.  We each hold a flag for Sardinia, regardless of our origin.  We all came seeking refuge from the mistral, to hid in Alghero’s harbor.  And as the whistling becomes a faint whisper, we believe she passes us by but then she turns and comes forward again.  As the night becomes day, Justin rises and makes bacon on the transom.  It is a long way from the calla in Menorca.

Last week, after the winds had largely settled, we unbound our snubber, raised our anchor and motored deep into the Mahon bay.  We needed some boat parts, water, and the flexibility of going into town at whim and will.  The hands at the marina gave us an easy mooring for our thrusterless vessel.  Stern to the dock and the Med mooring lines tied to the bow, Madame Geneva found her place for several days.  Justin reached out to our weather passage guru, Chris Parker, to discuss best timing for our crossing to Sardinia.  Thursday looked most promising for a light wind and largely waveless journey.  We would be motoring but had agreed that we needed an easy overnight passage.

Madame Geneva had been on the hard when we arrived in Porto de Bera.  A bit of gel coat work required her exit from the water. We had also just received the bow thruster plate, so the yard installed and painted the cover while she was out.  I mention all this because we found, once dipped back in the water, that the plate was painted shut and we had no thruster.  This ended up being fortuitous because as we regrouped in the high wind at the fuel station, hesitant to pull into our slip deep in the fingers with a susceptible bow, we managed to temporarily free the plate and briefly had the ability to control our vessel.   Thus, we again cast off and headed for the slip only to have smoke pouring out of the boat.  Apparently while waiting on the new water heater to exit customs (a process that took approximately six weeks and $700), the mechanics clipped the antifreeze lines from and to the engine when removing the old water heater and not only did we have antifreeze pouring in the bilge but the engine was dangerously on the brink.  We managed to get back to the fuel dock, married the open ends, and decided to sleep there.  Add to this an odd DC issue with the water maker, a calcified flapper on the kids’ toilet, the actual installation of the water heater, a large amount of sea water filling the bilge whenever the generator was operating and a myriad of other issues that required sleuthing, the days at the dock in Mahon were well needed.

Equally heartened and disheartened, Justin broke down the problems and solved many in those days.  The kids did their school work. I stepped in and out, helping as needed.  In the afternoons, we explored the town and ventured to the ruins.  We saw our friends from the calla; each on his own journey, with varying vectors and plans.  Slowly the boat came into order and we readied for our passage.

Waves that were once crashing well above the causeway at the calla were now long in their settling.  We left the harbor at 3pm to a light breeze on the nose and a calm sea.  Land slowly disappeared and soon we were the only boat for many miles in any direction.  I went below for a conference call (using the satellite connection) and looked out the ports as the sea lapped along the beam.  Cue the dolphin!  As if rallied by the gods, thirty dolphin rushed toward Madame Geneva!  Not swimming so much as frolicking quickly, diving in and jumping out of the water, creating their own beam bound wave, the sea creatures raced toward our boat.  Screams were heard from above as the kids hurried to the beam and the bow.  The dolphin seemed harnessed to the bow, pulling her along swiftly to the long away coast of Sardinia.  From below, I watched the underbellies as the beautiful mammals flew from the water, splashing alongside.

It’s still really cold offshore…like, winter cold

Justin and I took turns at watch throughout the night.  The sliver of a moon lit the transom well into the evening, setting in the wee hours and leaving a large array of stars to entertain thoughts and grand ideas.  Justin took the helm most of the passage, but I had the honor of those tiny hours with only the humming of the motor and the sloshing of the water.  Midway between Menorca and Sardinia, I released more of Uncle Joey and thought of our fortunate obligation to live this life so fully.

Daybreak had Justin back at the wheel.  He watched as the sun rose and a dolphin leaped high in greeting.  We averaged ten knots of speed under motor throughout the night.  The morning brought with it a sea breeze.  The jib went out and we were quietly under sail.  I choose this time to take a shower.  Not the easiest of feats but quite a warming and wakening experience!  These spring months in the Med are simply cold!  Well into our foulies, Justin and I were still ridiculously chilly, often hiding behind the dodger while on watch.  The sun soon burned away the mist and we were in sight of Sardinia.

So now let the winds blow while we are safely tied.  Her growl is menacing but she is without bite.  The lines may slap and the moaning may never cease, but here along the yellowed wall, we are offered sanctuary aboard Madame Geneva.  By day, we are no longer blindfolded.  By day, we are at port and given the land. Much love and stay tuned!

I am constantly reminded that what we are doing is by our choosing and not a holiday or vacation but still a gift. Its hard to explain at times but deeply satisfying because it’s with my family and not given but earned.

We took an easy trip across the Med 22 hours from Puerto Roda De Barà, Spain back to the Balerics in Mahon, Menorca. The sea was flat, the wind was nil, the ships were plenty. Kelly and I took three hour watches throughout the night while the children slept, dodging heavy ship traffic from Barcelona to the rest of the world with dolphins jumping all around us, Portuguese man-of-war by the millions on the surface and an easy beautiful passage to get started again. Dawn broke with a lovely 15 knot breeze just forward of the port beam and we sailed fast and fun over breakfast to Mahon and our favorite bay, Cala Teulera, surrounded by a thousand years of castle walls, lookout towers and long abandoned steps leading to the sea. Idyllic Mediterranean Spain. Perfect.

We entered the bay and anchored in a very tight safe spot in sand with only 4 other boats. Spain, Sweden, Germany, France and the USA in the house. What a wonderful feeling again to be surrounded by like minded diverse sailors. This is really one of my favorite parts of cruising. Everybody has been everywhere, and experienced their own storms, triumphs, lows and highs. It’s what binds us and I love it immensely. Old and young, families and naked Germans, all sailing and drinking deeply from this…whatever you want to call it.

Safely anchored in the Cala we decided to regroup and rest. The water was very cold but Kelly and I swam, and shampooed. All good. A great boat lasagna and a movie followed as the breeze turned to wind which turned to strong wind and further into a howling gale. We expected this. Our forecast said it would come. Our plan to haul ass to the Balerics before the next Mistral came smashing down from the Gulf of Lion in France was well founded and worked out well.

We had time to fight with the generator, fight with the bilge pump, install the water heater I had shipped from the US because of electrical issues, fight with the internet relay, you know, vacation….on your hands and knees with a headlamp and bloody knuckles.

It got windy….like, when will the locust swarm and zombies get here windy. 40 knots and angry. We reasoned that A: we are in the best sheltered bay in Menorca, B: if the anchor has held for a day then why would it let go on day 2? C: just because it will get even windier and the waves are crashing outside the bay where we had just been at nearly 20 feet what should we worry about? How about we have 3 children aboard, the gusts are spinning our 30,000 pound boat in a 150 foot arch jerking wildly? How about sleeping is only because of exhaustion waiting for the sound you don’t recognize that signals you have broken loose from anchor and will slam into your neighbors wrapping chain and anchors only to find the rocky lee shore before dawn? Standby….The wind died to leave the bay flat as glass. There are many cliches to describe this moment. Everybody knew what was coming though. Just when?

A strange horn sounded at 4:45AM, Kelly said something and I rolled to look out the port next to bed. SHIT!!! (Edited for PG). A catamaran that came into the anchorage late in the afternoon to shelter had broken loose and was drifting fast through the anchorage directly toward us. Dark boat, lights out. Our French neighbor, Michelle, was on deck blowing a horn to alert the skipper of the dragging boat to ensure he was awake and was not going to take us all out, tangling chain, anchors and boats to the rocky lee.

The English skipper of the cat shot onto deck half naked in the 50 degree howling gale and powered up, reeled in his anchor and spent the next 2 hours trying to reset his tackle in the dark, 40 knot winds swinging and stymieing his attempts. Thankfully the sky was lightening as the sunrise was approaching. He never could reset and motored off to the main harbor hopefully to get safe and rest. We’ll not know until we see him again but a real catastrophe was averted by a hair. All morning was spent on anchor watch swinging and howling in full foulies, eventually with a beer in hand, until finally I had rationalized that 36 hours of hell pounding hadn’t upset our anchor holding so we would be fine. Slowly all day the wind abated while the massive seas exploded over the rocky shore just over the bay.

Kelly and I had deep talks, mainly sharing our pride that our kids never were scared, watched The Phantom Menace (for May the 4th “Star Wars Day”) and went to bed. Just another day as a salty boat kid. Quinn mentioned that it was rather windy! We discussed what in hell we are doing and why. And we, as usual, shared that although this is often uncomfortable and occasionally terrifying, this is it. It’s what we’re doing. And unquestionably our family is the better for it.

The wind abated, as it will, and we had a lovely sundowner, as we will, with our neighbors on S/V Frida -German Ralph and his Kiwi wife Nina (and their 2 salty cats) and our French neighbor Michelle with the horn from S/V Velvet. Our kids played in their catamaran with cats and cards while we exchanged stories, a drink and destination info. Michelle and his wife are headed to Scotland, Ralph and Nina to New Zealand, Madame Geneva to Croatia. Amazing.

It seems a calm night resets all anxieties and stress. We’ll be here again (Menorca maybe but gut wrenching anxiety most definitely) but that’s it. That’s what we’re doing. For some reason.

The kids fed Juan, our trusty seagull who visits our transom hourly to see if we have any fish. We named him that because he’s Spanish. And because he’s the only….Juan, who visits.

A couple days of boat fixing then onto Sardinia because I hear nothing ever goes wrong there…..time to eat Kelly’s eggplant Parm. On a calm cool night.

Stay tuned. Much love.

By Che walling

The last trip we stayed at an apartment that was right in front of a cool place where there was a market. Around the door was the name of the place but I don’t remember what is was called; also, above the doorway there were these little doors that at 12:00 would open and a song would play. As I recall when we stayed there, we had a good time. Most unfortunately our boat was delayed for some reason, so we had to find a place to stay for the time being. Mom was looking for some where to stay and she found the exact same place we stayed when we left last summer.  We had a little drive to get to our destination. I think we stayed there for five days (I am not completely sure) but in those five days, we explored Roman ruins, saw giants, and walked to many places that were amazing to see. I had my scooter, and Gherty and Quinn had their toe-crushing rip sticks (which by the way I had to learn that from horrible experience). One time we were looking for a place to eat and we found something that we did not expect at all. Dad wanted to check out a Japanese restaurant that was surrounded with big, small, and medium fish tanks.

There was clown fish, puffer fish, an eel, koi fish, angel fish, a big catfish, whatever fish Dory is from Finding Nemo, etc. Mom was convinced it was a restaurant where they plucked fish out of their tanks and cooked them, but Dad disagreed with Mom’s opinion. What a sad life for a fish to know you have been caught and soon it will be your time to join the fish in fishy heaven. Never seeing the world, never seeing the other fishes that, that sad unfortunate fish will never see. That is how nature works. And that’s how a cookie crumbles.  There was a clown fish stuck in a glass tube, which now that I think about it reminds me of Finding Nemo when he escaped. We asked someone about the stuck fish and they said he can get in and out of the glass tube. Mom and Dad had a few more drinks, and we were bored watching them sip and went outside in the night to play. Lucky for us there was a playground right in front of the restaurant. We had fun ,but all fun must come to a end and soon we had to go.

One of those days, we were walking along a sidewalk and we stumbled into a tiny party with people that were playing trumpets, and other instruments of the sorts. There was a slanted hill that we played on while Mom and Dad danced to the music. We walked some more, and we passed a church that was super big and inside there were chapels with gold leaf and all other sorts of amazing things. We lit some candles for our loved ones. We stayed there for a while, listening to the priest talking. The next couple days were basically the same routine, and we had a ton of fun exploring, and seeing new places. There were the good times and the bad times, but all in all we had a lot of fun and enjoyed spending time together.