Thursday August 10

Well they arrived in late again and I gave them half an hour's grace, but even so they were dead to the world. We were off by 10 and sailing for what I think is the most magical island in the south of France. The wind was in the southwest and we sailed across the Bay of Toulon and round the cape and into the lee of the island. Apart from one period where the wind dropped we didn't need the motor at all.

Poquerolles is today a nature reserve. People pour over in the morning on the ferries and return in the evening. Its four mile length is covered with pine trees and scrub and it has several long beaches, particularly on the northern side where many yachts anchor and it was there we headed. Anchoring wasn't so easy. We had to be well in because the anchor chain isn't so long and the boats were close together. It took four attempts before we had a position that held properly and wasn't too close to other boats. One problem is that Second wind doesn't hold its head to wind when reversing to dig in the anchor. It was only Matt's second attempt at laying the anchor and I had to be on the tiller, as no one else would take it. So the whole process took longer than it should have and we kept drifting out of position.

We swam from the boat and the beach. While the others were away I checked another thing that had been worrying me. The second battery wasn't charging. By switching the batteries round I confirmed what I feared: the battery was dead. We would have to replace it before the long sail to Corsica the next day.

A little later I was surprised to hear Margaret arrive back at the boat in the dinghy, ferried by two unknown lads. I had arranged to pick her up at 8pm from the beach, but since the lads wanted to go ashore they took the dinghy instead and left it there. Come five past eight, Margaret, seeing the boat with nobody in it, persuaded two other boys on the beach to ferry her out to the boat. This took maybe half an hour. The lads arrived back a few minutes later to where they had left the dinghy, to discover it had gone!

We had a good laugh over this when they arrived back at the boat. But it didn't stop them going off once more to see whether there were any discos operating on land.

Saturday August 11 Sailing to Corsica

Today we sail further from land than I have ever been: 50 miles from the nearest coast, sailing from Porquerolles to Calvi in Corsica. The wind is SW which is great and predicted at 3-4 which makes life easy. The lads had as usual arrived back at some ungodly hour. Anyway we motored down to the port to buy a new battery and it was after 11 before we were properly on our way. Once out of the lee of the island, the wind forecasts proved correct and we sailed peacefully all day. Having an autopilot again made this even easier.

We set up hourly watches during the day to get the lads used to the system, though they slept most of the day. During the night we used a 3-hourly watch, in pairs, with Margaret and myself as watch leaders. But 11pm the wind had dropped to a level at which we had to put the engine on, and it wasn't turned off again till 9am the next morning.

I had the satisfaction of seeing a whale - a dark black shape unmistakable because of the sound of its blowing - five shooting stars, and, in the early hours of the morning, a group of around a dozen dolphins. Most of the traffic we saw was following the same line as us, so there was little to avoid. A few commercial craft crossed our tracks.

Saturday August 12 Corsica

By sunrise, the wind had changed to easterly and then to north-east, so that we were able to sail again, though this time we were close-hauled. From before dawn we could see the rugged outline of Corsica's mountains, thought it was hard to distinguish it from cloud at first. Slowly we got nearer till could see the outline of La Revelata and eventually the citadel of Calvi.

Calvi is reputed to be the birthplace of Christopher Columbus and is the place where Nelson lost his eye. It sits on a rugged headland which has been fortified with huge walls topped by a collection of large yellowish buildings. We entered the port, which seemed to be full, and tried in vain to make contact with the capitainerie using channel 9. We encountered various staff walking round who gave inconclusive replies about whether there were any spare berths. Eventually, pulling up at the main quay for water, other boat people advised us to try mooring on a berth immediately behind it, which we did. The evasions continued: the berth may be allocated, but another berth might be available. Although we arrived at mid-day it was almost 6 in the evening before were finally told that we couldn't stay but had to go outside to find a mooring.

We moored in the bay, but with a NE wind, it is quite exposed and a swell had built up which lasted all night. The lads wanted to go out later, so I took the dinghy ashore to pick up Margaret, who had gone off long before to explore the island. I had given her my hand-held VHF and so I was able to rendezvous with her and bring her back.

Sunday August 13

A lazy day in port, after our 25 hour sail the day before. The lads, who had taken the dinghy last night, didn't appear till after midday, claiming, rather sheepishly, that they'd forgotten where the dinghy was and fallen asleep at 6am after a nigh clubbing up in the citadel. Apart from the worry, there was little inconvenience as I wrote emails and Margaret washed. So Margaret and I took the dinghy and left the lads to sleep whilst we headed off in different directions to explore the island.

Monday August 14

By the time everyone was up, it was impossible to think of getting round Cap Course, at the north of the island, in one day. So we set out for St Florent, at the end of a deep bay, which involved more sailing but was the only harbour between Calvi and the top of Corsica. There wasn't much wind, so we motored up the coast, noticing the beautiful beaches which are only accessible from the sea. When we had rounded the Pointe de Curza and almost in sight of our destination we didn't resist the temptation to put in at Plage de Loto - a long strip of silver-white sand with several etangs (lakes) behind it. We anchored in 5m and the lads tied their cigarettes in plastic bags to swim ashore, whilst Margaret simply swam from the boat.

It was nearly 7pm before we arrived in St. Florent and the fellows from the Capitainerie were on the pontoons shouting "Complet", so we had no option but to turn round and anchor outside the harbour. Margaret wanted to fulfil her "duty of obligation" for the feast day on the morrow, so went off in search of masses, whilst the lads and I quaffed beers in the square and watched the locals play boule.

Tuesday August 15

The lads wanted to get their heads shaved, and, after I'd taken Margaret in to the town in the dinghy, we took the boat into the harbour and tied up on one of the pontoons that was by now vacated. Margaret had to walk up to the cathedral outside the town, so we had a lazy morning. The shops were shut so the lads didn't get their shave, but I managed at least to find a better chart of Elba than the Admiralty chart that I had, which was drawn by the French Navy in 1867 with corrections to 1948 by Italian surveys. It didn't even show Marino de Campo, where I planned to land, though a light was shown at the right place.

There was no wind for the trip up the west side of Cap Corse, but the cliffs and scenery is magnificent. But as we rounded the cape the wind increased and we put the genoa up, and then the mainsail, and had an hour of good sailing with a following wind till the wind dropped again as we approached Macinaggio. Once again the port was full and we dropped anchor in the bay.

The lads and I sat on the quat and enjoyed an excellent fireworks display in honour of the feast day. It turned out that Margaret had an even better view from the boat. At 1am, the lads were in difficulties: they wanted to go on drinking, but didn't have any more cash as they had brought a single credit card and no cash card between them. So Marc ferried me back to the boat whilst Matt talked to the friendly waitress at the café. They ended up back at her house and then on the beach, before getting back at some unearthly hour!

Wednesday August 16 We reach Elba

Problems once again getting people stirring. Then the lads found a coiffure who would shave their heads "in half an hour" and Matt found me and asked very nicely for some more time (at Margaret's instigation!) I knew we had a long trip ahead over to Elba, but how could I refuse?

The haircut took a lot longer, of course and we didn't get sailing until after 12. There was enough wind to push us along briskly, but not enough turn off the engine. A school of dolphins came round the boat, diving underneath. But it was a long hot afternoon, until the wind finally got up as we neared Elba.

The wind increased to a gusting 20 knots and I was wondering whether I would have to reef. I knew that when I went into the lee of the island the wind would drop, but I wasn't prepared for how suddenly this would happen. Within five minutes, it went from 15 knots to total calm, though it picked up as we went further along the coast.

Because we were late and I wanted to moor before dark, I decided to put in to one of the bays a few miles before Marina de Campo. On the chart, Cavioli looked rather more inviting than Fetovia, but when we approached we could see no boats at all there, so we decided to go back to Fetovia, where there were a crowd of boats anchored.

The pilot said "anchor in 2-8 metres" but when we got there the yellow buoys cordoning off the swimming area gave a minimum of 9m and most boats were moored in 10-12m. My anchor chain is only 25m but we managed to anchor successfully just on the line. Clearly I'll have to do something about this. I have another 50m of anchor rope in the locker, but I can't tie it on permanently as the eye through which the chain emerges is only just larger than the chain itself. Probably the easiest solution is to buy some more chain.

For once, the lads didn't want to go ashore. It was a quiet holiday resort, and when I went ashore, the beach café was the only place still open, and that was pretty deserted.

Thursday August 17

We spent a lazy morning on the beach, though I swam back to the boat, which was less crowded than the beach, with its rows of parasols and sunbeds. Then we headed towards Marino de Campo to try to beat the crowds and get into the harbour. No such luck! Once more we ended on an anchorage. I went in to town to find out about trains for the lads to get back to Genova. The tourist board, "open every day", was also "closed on Thursdays". ()

But at least we tempted the solitary Margaret into sitting down for a drink when she arrived back at the quay at 11pm. And the lads, for once, settled down for the night.

Friday August 18 On the Italian mainland

Though I was at the tourist office by 8, they weren't much help as they only had times from Piombino, on the mainland, which was in quite the wrong direction for us. The others didn't stir till 10. So it was 11.30 by the time they had made a trip to the village and we could set off. There was absolutely no wind, and the sun beat down unmercifully. Marc didn't wear a hat and with his shaved head and by the evening he was feeling sick.

This was the day we had to reach the mainland and I chose Talamone, an old walled town, as it was near the railway and south of Elba. Such wind as there was gave us half a knot, although we didn't put up the genoa all day. If this is a taste of the conditions I'm going to have down the coast of Italy it's not going to be a pleasant couple of weeks. Italian ports aren't organised as well as the French ones. They don't display the weather forecasts and the main function of the port employees seems to be to shoo away visitors! The only quay for visitors at Talamone had no mooring lines so that the anchor was needed to hold the boat off the quay. Being tired and hot, I didn't want to learn a new skill and so we crept into a spare berth on the club pontoons further along when no one was looking. We were told "privato" a few times but we all wanted to be on a "proper" pontoon after 6 days on anchorages.

I cycled off to check on trains for the next morning for the lads and discovered that the station nearby was so small that only a couple of trains stopped there on Saturday: the best option seemed to start on a bus. We all went up into the town as it was Marc's birthday and I wanted to treat them all to a farewell meal. We found a very pleasant trattoria in a garden, but Marc's headache was so bad that he had to go back to the boat to lie down. But at least Margaret had agreed to eat out, for the only time in the entire trip.

Saturday August 19 The lads are off

The lads were off just before 8. I had misread the bus timetable and they missed the only bus to Grossetto which went north, but a bus turned up going south to Ansedonia, and we pushed them quickly onto it, hoping they would find a train.

The rest of the day was spent lazing in Talamone. The small beach was rather crowded and was covered with uncomfortable volcanic rocks, but in the evening I sweated up the hill to where a genoese fort looked out over the sea. After finding nothing but high fences, I came to a large locked gate proclaiming a nature reserve. In true Italian fashion there was a well-worn path round the gate, and I was able to sit on more volcanic rocks and admire a stunning view of the sea and the bay beyond Talamone and eat my supper as the sun went down.

When I arrived back at the boat, I found a triumphant Margaret who had worn down the caretaker of the club, who had threatened to expel us, by arguing for visiting privileges from her yacht club in Ireland. Another yacht club supported her and she told me to put away the red ensign, on the grounds that the English weren't so popular with their imperialist background! The Irish will use any excuse!

Sunday August 20

We left at 10 for the 48 mile haul to Civitavecchia, which we reached at 19.30. There was only a few knots of wind and after we rounded the headland of Monte Argentario it was right on our nose.

However, the marina a couple of miles beyond the town, at Traiano, turned out to be excellent. We were even escorted to our berth by a member of the capitainerie. It's a marina of monumental solidness - huge expanses of concrete, water and electricity on the quay, and a long line of shops and restaurants. There was even an engine shop right next to our pontoon.

Monday August 21

We are several days behind our plan to reach Messina before Margaret has to return on August 28 and we had a discussion about tactics. She could stay in a friend's flat in Rome for a few days before getting a return flight from there. So she used the phone in the capitainerie most of the morning to fix up a flight.

I went off into Civitavecchia by bike to see if I could get my mobile phone working. It turned out that it couldn't be used in Italy, which was puzzling as it was the same model as Margaret's and hers worked. But I did, eventually, find an internet café, in "Club Napoli", which was a dinghy bar with a large number of pool tables behind blue glass. The internet connection turned out to be in the manager's office and to get set up, I first had to "sign off" a conversation the manager had been having with an American woman on a chat line! But as he wouldn't accept any payment, I had half an hour's connection for the price of a couple of cappuccinos and a rather dreadful ham sandwich.

Back at the boat, I got down to some much-needed maintenance. The batteries had been running dry for several weeks and I discovered that the alternator was delivering 17 volts instead of the 14 specified. Why this should be I didn't know and spent the rest of the afternoon unsuccessfully chasing "Fabricio", who was the electrical specialist in the engine shop. I finally caught up with him just before closing time and he promised to come first thing in the morning. But I was more successful in other jobs, including getting an awning made by a very pleasant girl who was the local sailmaker. At £50 it was less than half the price of similar prefabricated awnings in the French chandleries. I should have asked for it to be a bit wider, but it does give some protection against the fierce sun.

Tuesday August 22 A major expense

Fabricio arrived on time, removed the alternator and regulator for tests and a little while later I was called into the manager's office for an ultimatum: there were parts that needed replacing that were old and non-standard and might take several days to track down. In the end it would cost almost as much as a new alternator, which they recommended.

This was a major expense and I had little option but to take their word for it. So they fitted a new alternator and I was very surprised to observe that the voltage was still 16V with the new one. So they looked a little further and discovered that the ammeter which Ray had fitted had come loose once again. (I had had to reconnect it before.) We removed it from the circuit and the voltage dropped to 14.5. Was this the problem in the first place? Fabricio assured me that the old alternator had been damaged by being on open circuit and I had to believe him. So I reluctantly paid the bill which came to over £400.

Margaret had made her travel arrangements and I said goodbye to her, carrying her enormously heavy bag to the bus stop on my bike. She said she had thoroughly enjoyed her time, and while I was a little daunted by the prospect of sailing on towards Greece on my own, I was quite happy to let her go. I had tried unsuccessfully to recruit other people for the leg from Messina and failed. So from here on, I would be on my own.