Departure

Today, I felt like a sea spirit again. It's a strange transformation that springs us from winter mode into the sailing season. All winter, the sea is a leaden, sultry and uninviting place. It sends us evil winds and storms, and seems like such an inhospitable environment. Not somewhere you'd want to go...

Megan, Ina, Tim and Geert: Haul-out buddies

Pavlov waiting for a lift

... looking rather forlorn in the pen.

But today, Spit and I went for a tour of the harbour. Spit (our dingy, the name should be obvious) had been rolled up for winter storage, and our little 3hp outboard had undergone a major winter overhaul. I needed to test them both before we head off for summer. So we pumped up Spit, laboriously patched the patches on her faded sun-cover, and strapped the outboard on the back.

Nicco from Snow Goose, some Belgium friends

Megan and Pavvie, lifting together 

Pavlov levitating 

Hanging about in the slings

Spring cleaning, Pavlov style

And suddenly, I'm skimming across water, salt spray in my face, sun dappling on the dancing wavelets, and I'm reborn as a sea spirit again. In one split instant, water now seems like our natural, maternal environment, and I revel in the freedom of spinning across the harbour that we trudged so manually around in winter. It is indeed Spring, and the water beckons us with its siren call.

The long trudge to our haul out place

Our home for the next 5 hectic days

and the view from the deck

However simple and instantaneous the transformation of the spirit, the actual transformation of the boat takes a little longer. We've now progressed onto the hard, lifted Pavlov out of her element and suspended her in space for a little work on her ... ah hum ... filthy bottom. Its a stressful time in most cruisers lives, with unexpected calamities, unavailable parts and money-grubbing boat yards conspiring to make your life hell.

One of our painters 

Pavlov getting the beauty treatment

Our particular hell was a very slow leak in one of our main fresh water tanks. I disembowelled the boat several times trying to trace the leak, replacing every suspect pipe that I could, until I was driven to the conclusion that the leak must be from the tank itself. Ahhhggg, major surgery was required.

Decorated carts parading for Saint Angelo

One of the famous dancing horses celebrating St Angelo's day

Taking the ponies for a walk

In the end, we extracted the tank more easily than I imagined, and we were lucky to find a very experienced TIG welder in the boat yard who agreed to weld up the leaking welds for the absolute bargain of  30 Euro. However, the whole boat was 'deconstructed' to remove the tank, and since we had to keep on living in her, life went on in the most chaotic of fashions.

Dashing Sicilian horsemen

... younger ones

... and dancing ones.

Our 'unavailable part' was an anode for our prop. The last one had not survived the year, and we needed a new one before we splashed. The yard here was shutting down for several days for the annual St. Angelo (patron saint of Licata) festival holiday, and we had to be out this day, or else spend another 5 days in purgatory, along with the fumes, dust, public inspection and toilet that had mysteriously run out of water. The other option was to dive on the prop while in the water, and attempt to remove 3 screws and anode and replace without dropping anything to the briny depths, or breathing for 5 minutes.

The well groomed look

The brighter, the better

Got to feel a little sorry for the pony

It really was a mammoth parade!

So the last day we could launch arrived. It was blowing a gale and no anode, but we just couldn't face more time in the yard. Last coats of antifoul were slapped on, the prop greased and all made ready. Then, 30 minutes before launch time, in a last desperate visit to the chandlery, we found that the anode had arrived. Hastily fitted, we were ready to launch. We also lucked out, the winds had faded from the constant 35 knots of the previous few days, and we had some reasonable winds to accompany us back to the marina.

Traditional Sicilian dress

Saint Angelo's square after the parade had passed

More traditional dress

After docking in the still considerable cross winds, and being scored on our performance by the greedy eyes of all the other cruisers on the dock, we were back in our winter nest. It was so comforting, that we forgot our spring imperatives for a day, and just lolled in the calm and security of a familiar place.  The next day, we swore off boat maintenance, as we were so thoroughly exhausted from the haul out. It was time to join in the festivities celebrating Saint Angelo, the patron saint of Licata. There was a massive parade of prancing horses, many with gaily painted carts. The streets are lined with stalls selling all manner of things, no-one works all week, and there is an elevated party mood permeating the town. Tonight, the men will race tall religious towers (for want of a better description) around the town, and tomorrow, machismo will rule as men try to climb the greased pole.



One of the more colourful stalls for the festival.

Italians love food and there are many stalls like this.

One of the church 'towers' that they race around the town

Another example

So we have a few days left to finally prep the boat, bend on our sails, do the washing in the last laundromat we'll find for a time, and make a provisioning stop at Lidl. We will miss the home we've made in Licata, the friendly cafe proprietor who greets me with ' Ah, Capitane' every morning, the hidden treasures buried in the ugly exterior of the town. But its time for new pastures, and we're heading for Malta. So, Arrivederci til then.

Breakfast at our local cafe

The Admiral at Toto's cafe, our local haunt.

Tripping to Trapani

Back on the boat, cabin fever set in, so Megan and I decided to hire a car for a few days and see some more of Sicily. We set off first to Agrigento, which we have visited before. This time, we were able to ignore all the 'historically important' sites, and just enjoy the town. We're suffering from history overload, and don't have much enthusiasm for visiting ancient sites.

View from Agrigento to the coast

Our B&B in Agrigento. Love the cactus.

A perch for the virgin

Just another famous monastery that was closed

Megan showing the plaster

Agrigento was an enjoyable town, we wandered the streets and shops without feeling impelled to see any of the 'sights' as we'd seen them previously. Next day we headed off to Marsala, the town and region that produces the eponymous wine. On the way, we stopped at Sciacci and bought some beautiful hand made ceramic tiles. We are in the process of selling our house in Australia, so it felt like we'd made the first purchase towards our new home (wherever that might be!).

Ceramic dome in Sciacci

Main thoroughfare of Sciacci 

Marsala was an ugly place. We stayed in a B&B just outside the 'old town', and couldn't help noticing just how impoverished and plain butt-ugly all the buildings were. There was no charm nor character the buildings, just a sense of grinding poverty. Our B&B room was mouldy and charmless, as was the included breakfast watched over hawk-eyed by the proprietor. We couldn't wait to leave.

Town gate in Marsala

Town square in Marsala

Another day, another church

We did find some joy in the country side near Marsala. There is a low-lying string of islands just off the coast which provide shelter for a small shallow harbour which has been the centre for salt production. The area is dotted with picturesque windmills, and there is a lot of aquatic bird-life in the area.

Marsala sea side with windmill in the distance

Windmill with salt production lake-pans

Canals between the salt pans

Rock salt piles, protected by a covering of roofing tiles.

Windmill, which now sells.... salt for tourists.

Sheep attack!

 From Marsala, we struck out for Trapani. In the suburbs outside the town is a gondola that travels quite a few kilometres up to a town, Erice on top of the hill. This was a stunning ride with glorious views. Erice clearly made most of its income from tourism, but was a picturesque walled town.

Gondola cars

Climbing out of Trapani

Trapani from half-way up the gondola track

Gate entry to the walled town of Erice

Erice grockle 

The leaning tower of Erice

Steep town streets

Panorama from Erice over the valley of Trapani

Back to the actual town of Trapani, we were also pretty disappointed by the town. We'd heard about the wonderful cous-cous, a local delicacy of Trapani, so we'd promised ourselves a night out in a good restaurant. Problem was, we couldn't find one! They were either closed or booked out. It is early in the season, but eating out is clearly a tourist endeavour, rather than for the locals. Facing imminent starvation, our only recourse was to buy some take-out from a caterer, and eat it in our B&B room. Pretty dismal really.

Fast hydrofoil ferry 

Garibaldi landed here when he started his unification drive

Trapani harbour

Yet another... 

Palazzo

Waterfront promenade

We stumbled onto a film set in Trapani, by accident actually, as our way was barred by security people. We watched as several takes of a scene involving period cars and a man in a 70's brown suit were shot.

Film set, with a take under way. Note the period cars.

Some of the actors and producer.

We were quite uninspired by this trip, and we realised that maybe it us.... maybe we've just seen too many sites, too many churches, too many wonderful things. We've been on Pavlov for four years now, which is a pretty long time for continuous travel. Our house is sold back in Australia, and we had been planning to buy a block of land we had seen on our last visit back, but it is now sold. So we are at a loose end. We have to return to Australia in December to remove our belongings stored in our shed (an agreement of the sale was that we could leave our things there until December). The real question is, where should we buy a house, and will we come back to Pavvie? Stay tuned, same bat-time, same bat-channel.