Preparations

3/16/2014

The story of my first big crossing begins in Leuca.  I intended to cross the Adriatic, but I knew I would have to wait.  I needed to replace my stolen PLB and deck lights, since the channel was full of traffic and I would be paddling at night.  My parents were sending me a package.  

Waiting:

The package also includes an Acme Thief Pulverizer.  The idea is that I can remotely detonate my kayak and any thieves near it.  I know, I know, it seems extreme, but I’m really upset that so much of my gear was stolen in Italy.  The ATP also has an email tracking option, so that I can locate my stolen kayak before blowing up the enemy, if I have enough patience.  The Idea was to track the package in transit and my progress crossing the strait.

I was hoping I could find a sailboat to escort me, just in case something went wrong.  It wouldn’t be a solo crossing, which earns more pride, but I felt safety was more important than pride.

Most importantly, I needed a weather window.  I had stayed in Leuca for a week and carefully watched the conditions in the Strait of Otronto.  The strait was consistently inhospitable.  I did enjoy some great kayak surfing during that week, but a crossing would have been impossible.

I needed to paddle the approximately 20 nautical miles to porto Badisco, my launch point.

I needed to buy crackers.  I’ve found that whole grain crackers are a great source of energy while kayaking, and available just about everywhere, except for the supermarket near where I was staying in Leuca.

The Escort:

Sunday morning Federico, the president of the sailing club and my amazing host, had news.  His friend Roberto intended to cross, weather permitting, on Friday.

I met with Roberto in his sailing boat.  Traveling with me at three knots would not be a problem.  We talked about emergency plans.  He could take all of my unnecessary gear, like my sleeping bag and stove.  We would remain in visual contact at all times, but I would receive no non emergency assistance beyond that.  I should help myself to cookies while we talk.  It was too good to be true.

There was one hitch.  He could only go on Friday.  He and some friends wanted to visit the island for the weekend.  If the weather was too rough for me, they would leave without me.

The likelihood of one arbitrary day being calm enough for my 15 hour crossing was about as likely as pretty girl, who thought I was hunky and sweet on the first date, still thinking I was sane on  the third.  Launching with this guy was nearly impossible, but I would still try to make it work just in case the window magically appeared.

Leaving on a Friday presented an additional challenge.  I had to arrive before sabbath started at sunset, and ideally with enough time to shower and prepare for the weekly holy day.  I needed to launch around midnight.

I came up with a plan.  Every day for the rest of the week I would go to sleep and wake up one hour earlier so that by Friday, I could drop off mid afternoon and be ready to start fresh six hours before dawn and 18 before sunset.

Crackers:

I walked to the supermarket near the church, hoping to find crackers.  The man working there gave me an ugly look and asked in Italian “Can I help you?” as a way of saying, please do whatever it is you need to do an leave.

I looked for the crackers and didn’t find them.  “Biscoti Integrali?”  I asked.

“Try the tabachiara next door.” he told me briskly in Italian.  He must not have understood me.  Tabachiaras have everything except healthy food.

“Are you sure?”  He was sure.

They didn’t have any next door.  I went back into the supermarket.  There was a woman working there who overheard the earlier conversation.  She showed me where the whole grain crackers were.  But they were cookies, not crackers.

The man gave me directions to another supermarket.  “Go straight, that way.”  

“Do I pass the bridge?”  I asked.

“Yes.”  He told me.

I walked until I passed the bridge, then I walked farther.  There was no supermarket.  I asked around.  His directions were bogus.  

I needed the crackers to make the crossing.  It sounds silly, but I had tested them extensively.  They worked.  They were easy.  It was not the time to start experimenting with something new.

I learned that there was one last minimarket in town.  It wasn’t that far from the supermarket.  There were two shelves and three short isles.  They were polite and had crackers.

I estimated I would consume 36 packages with four crackers each on the crossing.  It didn’t sound healthy.

The Package:

I had instructed my parents that under no circumstance were they to send the package with USPS as the postal service had already failed spectacularly more than once, causing extensive delays and the loss of expensive equipment.  Somehow, they ended up sending it with USPS.

My ATP was functioning and broadcasting its location from Paris.  It wasn’t moving and the three to five day shipping time was long past.  Something had gone wrong.  In the unlikely event the weather window came through, I would launch without my PLB, head lamp, and deck lights.  Hopefully, I would not miss them.

I needed a headlamp to read my compass.  Roberto offered to lend me his.  It was from before LED lights, but it would do the trick.

The weather window was more important than all other considerations combined.  The final say would come Thursday night.

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Hospitality, Repairs, and Waiting

3/4/2014

I’ve been staying with the sailing school in Leuca.  Leuca is a one or two day paddle from Porto Badisco.  I intend to cross the Adriatic to Othonoi, Greece, from there.

I’ve used the last few days to resolve a number of logistical issues that have come up.  I’ve made numerous repairs to my boat, some of which required multiple layers of epoxy.

Before I can make the crossing I need to receive a package from the folks. It includes deck lights and a plb to replace those that were stolen.  It’s gear I should have with me for the crossing.  We’re not using usps, so hopefully we’ll avoid the shipping fiasco from last time.

I’ll also need a weather window.  It’s the wrong time of year for one of those, but this is where I try to trade in all the bad luck I’ve had up until now.  It’s a good thing the universe works like that.

Yesterday I went paddling for a couple of hours to test out my repairs and explore the sea caves I passed last Thursday.

I left most of my gear behind.  Without it, my boat felt a little unstable at first and turned better.  I liked it.

The weather was sunny and the sea was being whipped up by a north wind.

I tried to catch waves and surf into the small beach near the port, but the wind was sending the waves the wrong way.

I followed the cliffs around and found the caves.  There were a lot of them, and they were big.  I went into four or five.  In addition to being dark, they were full of mist as waves crashed in and shot spray up into the humid cave air.  Tunnels disappeared into the hazy darkness and I did not follow.  The caves were large enough so that I could get well inside and still have substantial clearance above my head.  But without calm seas, a helmet, and a headlamp, I decided not to continue in to the inner smaller tunnels.

I paddled under an enormous stone arch.

I didn’t take any pictures since my camera broke.  I’m hoping to find a donor to send me $250 for a new one.

When I turned around I paddled away from the cliffs where the wind was much stronger.  I surfed waves.  I edged into one of them strongly to stay on course.  I edged too far and my head was briefly underwater.  I scull snapped my paddle and tried to swing my head low over my back deck.  I didn’t go down any farther but I only came up enough to get a quick breath before the wave tried to pull me back down.  So I did it again, and on the third time I was up, secure, and paddling forward again.

This wasn’t exactly a roll since I never went down far enough to consider myself capsized; it was more of a late recovery.

With the wind at my pack I moved fast.  I lowered my rudder to reduce the swerving, but it didn’t help since the foot pedals were loose.  I’d have to fix that later with a hanger.  It’s the second time that’s happened since I started with this boat; it’s the result of heavy tumbling.  I raised the rudder back up.

I returned to the small beach next to the port.  The first roll I practiced, my paddle got caught in the deckline that runs alongside my cockpit.  I don’t know how that happened, but I sorted it out.  That’s when I got this sudden feeling that I forgot to tie my glasses on.  I rolled up without any trouble and tied my glasses on.  The rest of my rolls went well and I practiced until my ears hurt.

After coming in I examined the hatches.  There was water in them, but not so much that it couldn’t be attributed to leaking from the hatches and not the hull.  Still, I examined the hull and found another spot that could use an epoxy touch up.

My new Akuilisaq continues to function exceptionally.

So I’m waiting again in a good place.  Please, keep your snide comments to yourself, this time it will only be a few days.

[gallery type="rectangular" ids="3914,3913,3912,3911,3910,3909,3908,3907,3906,3905,3904"]

Day 105

2/27/2014

I paddled away from Torre San Giovani hoping to make it to Leuca, the end of Italy. Leuca isn’t actually my last stop in Italy, I have one or two more after before I arrive in Porto Badisco, my Adriatic crossing launch.  But, at the very tip of the boot heel, it’s where most sailors make the crossing from.  It is the end of italy.

At first I paddled in shallow water along a beach.  A series of small islands separated me from the gradually worsening conditions at sea.   Sometimes the water was too shallow to plant my paddle properly and I tip-toed around those sections.

Despite the conditions, I made steady progress.  I stopped for a break in a sharp curve on the coast that was doubly sheltered by an island.  A man called out to me from the shore.  He wanted my help.  The water was flat so I made an easy landing.  I helped the stranger flip his motorboat upside down so he could work on the bottom.

He encouraged me to stop at the port around the bend for the day, since Lecua has strong currents.  But I wanted to make it to the end of Italy, it wasn’t that far.  If I had too much trouble I could always turn around.

I passed an old round tower that rose out of the water near a low angle beach.  The top was collapsed at an angle and crowned with bright green grass.  I didn’t find the port the fellow told me about, though on the map I now see that it was there.  I suspect the entrance was mostly closed by sand.

The surf was getting rougher, and when I strayed too near the beach, breaking waves tried to take control of my boat and surf splashed over my skirt.

The next port I arrived in was Torre Vado.  The squat cylindrical tower sat right in the port.  I rested and asked a fisherman how far to Leuca.   Nine kilometers, an hour and a half in good conditions, more today.

After Torre Vado the head wind really picked up - whitecaps became frequent and swells jostled me up and down.  I pressed on.

I paddled into a bay. At the far end there was a smaller bay within the bay where I could find shelter for a break and maybe information.

As I cut around the corner a large breaking wave caught me.  I skulled into it to support myself but was helpless to move forward or back.  I was horrified as I flew over a set of porous jagged rocks and just narrowly missed landing on another. Instead, I crashed sideways into the washing-machine-sized-kayak-destroyer and dropped upright into the water.  The way ahead, between the jaws of hull crushing destruction was clear, and I sprinted out.

I rested in the comparatively protected water of the inner bay.  An old man and a small boy were playing on the beach.  I got close enough to call out to him over the surf.  I learned only three kilometers to remained to Leuca’s port.  That was good since I was getting tired and the sea was getting mean.

A big wave came and sent me towards the rocks at the edge of the beach.  I paddled hard port side and edged hard too, but not hard enough.  The next wave dragged me over shallow sharp rocks, the wave after that shoved me over the not so shallow rocks, and the wave after that planted me half way up the tall sea fangs of doom.

I clung to rock to keep from being pushed even farther in as my hull ground and crunched against it.  The sharp edges bit into my hands.  Wave after wave, slam crunch, slam crunch.

And then a good one came.  It lifted me up without pushing me in.  I let go of the jagged rock and slid out to the safety of the sea.  The old man cheered.

I was back in the center of the inner bay.  I have never seen a boat take such a beating as mine just had, and it needed to be inspected.  There was a boat ramp, but an exit in these conditions could easily involve swimming, and in the middle of nowhere, if I did find damage I wouldn’t be able to do more than tape it up.

I needed to get to the port.  It was only three kilometers away.  My boat didn’t seem to be sinking yet.  If it started to, maybe I’d be able to pull over.

I paddled out of the bay.  My boat didn’t noticeably sink, which is good since there was nowhere to pull over.

The cliffs were full of sea caves of all sizes  that I had no desire to explore.  It’s also not safe when the water is rough.

I passed a corner.  On the high hill at the edge of the land was an enormous white lighthouse.  Below it, in the bay rested the harbor.  The town of Leuca was on all sides.

I paddled into the port.  A man from the sailing school, Scuola Vela, greeted me.  All the expedition kayakers stayed in his school.  They had a bed for me, a hot shower, and a stocked kitchen.  I had reached the end of Italy, and it was heaven.

I climbed a thousand old stone steps to the lighthouse at the top of the hill and had my first view of the Adriatic.  It was covered in whitecaps.  Wind blasted my face.  And maybe, just maybe, I saw the shadow of Greek mountains on the other side.

 

[gallery type="rectangular" ids="3852,3854,3856,3858,3859,3860,3861,3863,3865,3867,3869"]

Nautical miles paddled: 14.5

Total since Naples:  587

Current location: 39.798348,18.36017

We carried my boat from the water to the sailing school.  It was unusually heavy.  I opened it up, and found a suspiciously large quantity of water in both the front and back hatches.  The hull and the gunnels were torn up.  Some spots were just dented, in others, carbon threads roamed free and chunks were missing.  There were no gaping holes, but it is possible I was slowly sinking.  Fortunately, I finished in an excellent place to make repairs by covering the wounds with a layer of epoxy.  Hopefully, there’s not some carbon epoxy ratio critical point, after which my boat won’t float anymore.

 My clothing dry bag did not do its job.  My teffilin also got wet.  My electronics dry bag, with an end of Italy miracle, did just fine.

 

Day 104

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2/27/2014

When my GPS broke a few days ago, I put it in my rice box as I had a number of times before.  But after a few days, it still didn’t work.  Maybe my rice had gotten to old and lost it’s magic.  I bought new rice.  After a day, my GPS was covered with rice dust, but still not working.

This morning I brought it to a nautical store that told me there was a chance they could get it fixed.  I got to the store at 9:00 and they opened around 10:00.  After walking back to my boat and getting my gear together, I launched at noon.

The day before my camera ran out of batteries before I had a good view of Gallipoli.  Paddling away I tried to take a picture, only I couldn’t since my camera wouldn’t turn on.  It still doesn’t.  It doesn't charge either.  Who wants to donate a new camera so we can have more wonderful photos!

The sun shone and there was a mild head wind.  I began by crossing a bay for an hour.  I only had about four hours to paddle today, but I was working with an extremely late start.

At the end of the crossing I found a tiny cove where I practiced a couple of rolls.  My seat broke.  When I first got my Nelo kayak, without the seat I had asked for that had been promised, the seat back was attached to the seat by two bolts.  The first one came out a while ago, and the second one today.  I paddled the rest of the day without a seat back, but I didn’t mind at all.  I think my back has grown stronger.

I paddled along very low sand cliffs.  I passed a few beaches and a lot of porous jagged rocks forming an abrupt shore line, maybe a meter high.  Mostly, the ledge dropped away, sometime twenty or more feet deep, sometimes only a couple.

I could see all the way down.  Rocks of all sizes sat and plants grew at the bottom.  In other places, the bottom was sandy.

The water was so clear, that if a monkey dove off my boat down to the distant sea floor, and held up all eight of it’s fingers, I would be able to tell that it had lost the other two in a tragic accident  involving a blender, a prewar can of tuna, and a power surge.

When I pulled up here in Torre San Giovanni I was immediately invited to stay in the Lega Navale, without any prompting from me.  They don’t have hot water so I showered with cold.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hot shower, but I think the cold ones are good for me.  They acclimate my body to cold water and make me stronger.

The LNI here is one of those enormous square towers that used to guard the coast here.  The ceilings are high, the walls are thick enough to withstand the cannon fire of the time, and the plumbing doesn't work.

On to Leuca.  It looks like I’ll be arriving well before my care package from the states and I’ll have to wait for it before I can make the crossing from porto Badisco.  I hope that will give me time to look for and find an escort.

[gallery type="rectangular" ids="3862,3864,3866,3868,3870,3871,3872,3874,3883,3884"]

 

Nautical miles paddled: 14

Total since Naples: 572.5

Current location: 39.88651,18.113893

 

Day 103

2/25/2014

In the night the port guard patrolled the docks with a trident and a super powerful flashlight.  The water here is extraordinarily clear with various shades of blue and green.  But near the Lega Navale, it’s just clear.  So the night guard hunted fish.

This morning a couple of young fellows in similar orange jackets showed up while I was packing my gear.  The younger one took some photos and asked me questions for his article.  When the interview was over they boarded their Coast Guard motorboat and zoomed off to guard the coast.

I don’t zoom quite the way motorboats do, but I cruised across the small inner sea, leaving the Lega Navale behind.

The forecast said it would rain so I wore my neoprene jacket and hat.  There were lots of clouds in the sky, but the sun shone through a gap and I was warm.  I was not in a particularly great place to roll and cool off.  The water was choppy and if I did end up swimming, something that has not happened in ages but remains burnt in my memory, I would have to climb up jagged rocks or swim a long ways to a beach.  But there’s the rule - a good kayaker rolls without fear on a whim.  I was hot and needed to cool down, that definitely constituted a whim.

I got so stressed that when I finally did roll it was a barely successful mess.  I was in debt to the sea god for a good roll.

I saw the Coast Guardians in their motorboat towing an enormous buoy with a light on it.  I paddled over to say hello, but they gestured to me to keep away.  At least, I think they did.  Gestures here in Italy, come here and go away, are different than those we use in America.

For a little while, while the scenery was less exciting, I fretted about my financial situation.  If only my regular readers would help me out with five dollars a month in exchange for the entertainment I provide.  If only the people that liked my blog would spread it by mouth and social media.  If only the people who downloaded my book would come through with the recommended donations.  They probably don’t realize how hard writing is.  Oh well, the expedition was a good plan and if it fails because the financial side falls through, at least I’ll know I gave it my all.  At least I had some support from a few wonderful friends and family.  It’s not like I was asking to get rich, anything I raise over the price of the trip I have already committed to the Alliance for Climate Protection.  Sigh.

I passed a couple more towers before hills came to the coast and the rocky shore turned into bright, tree-lined cliffs.  Through the exceptionally clear water I saw rocks and small growing things far below.  I poked my nose into small sea caves.  And I found a pristine cove where the choppy water smoothed out.

I paid my debt and rolled.  I tried one hand-roll, and didn’t get it, but my regular rolls all went wonderfully.  I took pictures of myself underwater.  Rolling well is exhilarating.

The clouds were gone, the sea was full of sunlight and the air sparkled.

I took a break in a bay that was guarded by a fort.  I stretched my legs and approached an elderly fisherman sitting on the rocks to confirm my location on my new chart.  The chart is not waterproof, so I can only take it out on land, but it’s better than nothing.

“Ciao.”  I called to him as I walked up.  He did not respond so I tried calling louder and again louder.  I was now only a few feet away so I assumed he was deaf.

I tried one last time standing almost above him, “Salve”.

He said “GAR GASK Funk!” or something like that which sounded like it might mean “Get lost!”

“I don’t speak Italian.”  I told him in Italian.  I asked him if the town around the corner was the one on my map and he waved with his hand what might have been an affirmative.

I paddled past more small sea caves and four towers in a square that might at one time have been a castle.  I paddled along a beach and got directions from a one armed fisherman in a row boat.  Everything was perfect until the wind turned against me.

Fortunately I was near Gallipoli, my destination for the day. The first port I paddled into had dozens of living room sized boats on land and only a few smaller ones in the water.  It had a desolate, uninviting feel.  The next port I paddled into was populated by a bunch of sailboats, but no large capitaneria that might have showers.  The third port had lots of million dollar yachts, nothing like Monaco, but the most I’d seen in southern Italy.  It seemed like no one would steal my kayak there and I bet they had a place for me to shower and sleep too.

But the dock worker was perturbed by my presence, even after I told him my story.  He brought me to the office and explained to the receptionist about the problem that just showed up.  They found a Canadian to work as a translator.

I could leave my boat there overnight, but where would I sleep?

“Next to my boat?” I suggested.

“No, here you can only sleep in your boat.  We’ll call the port next door.  They have more room.”  There was plenty of room, even a really nice couch that was not for me.

The port next door was not any more inviting, but who would be, the way I was introduced over the phone?

I got directions to the Lega Navale.  I paddled under two bridges and found it sandwiched between a castle and a fortress.  At first, they too were uninviting.  I could not sleep on the dock.  And that was the only space they had.  Docks are not for sleeping on.

I could use their wifi connection to find a place to sleep.  I also got directions to a place that could fix my GPS.  I followed the directions.  There was a nautical shop there and the man outside of it told me no one here could fix my GPS.  After I walked half an hour back to the LNI I found out he was wrong.

Where would I sleep?

“In the parking lot.”  I told the man who wouldn’t let me sleep next to my boat.

“Okay, you can sleep next to your boat.”  And I slept well.

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Distance paddled: 17

Total since Naples: 558.5

Current location: 40.055515,17.97945

 

Comfort Paddling

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't complained about chafing in a while.  No, it's not because I've manned up and am no longer a cry baby.  It's because my new Akulisaq is amazing!   It keeps me dry and lets me lean forward in my seat.  I rotate freely and roll without the least bit of tension.

In fact, I loved it so much that I contacted the fellow who made it and set up a sponsorship deal.  In addition to Akuilisaqs and Tuiliks, he also makes great instructional videos.  So check out his site and make sure you followed the link here so he knows I sent you.

Day 102

2/24/2014

Yesterday I used the smoke-filled Tabachiara in Torre Colimena to recharge the internet access on my phone.  Tabachiarias are all purpose corner shops where anything can be purchased except healthy food.  

But the internet on my phone didn’t work.  The fellow who was there at 7:30 this morning didn’t know anything about phones.  It was his daughter who helped me yesterday. 7:30 was too early in the morning for her.

“Come back at 9:30.”

By 11:00 I was on the water and on my way.  Yesterday the forecast made today look like a no go, but this morning, that was no longer the case.

I used my new storm paddle and tried a new bungee system for stowing my winged paddle on my front deck.

I paddled along beaches and interesting porous rock formations.  Above the beaches I saw houses and forests; above the rocks, big square towers.

I was paddling close to the rocks around a point.  The waves weren’t very high, but they were spiking up and crashing, indicating the water ahead was very shallow and I best go around.  I didn’t want to go around since that would take longer.

Instead I got hit by one of the waves and as I struggled to get free by turning into it, I capsized.  I was using my storm paddle and had it extended on the port/down wave side for the most turning power.  The wave sucked my starboard side under and I am not yet sufficiently skilled with the storm paddle to hand shift and scull.  Instead, I sculled without hand shifting, my gut reaction to going down, and consequently, sculled without a paddle.

My elbow rested on an underwater ledge.  I tried to use my hand to push myself up off of the bottom, but my hand was past the ledge.  I set up for a roll with the back of my shoulder supporting some of the weight of the boat and me against the rocks beneath me.  Sandwiched as I was, it was a new sort of roll, but it worked well enough.

My winged paddles slipped out of their front bungee binding and dangled in the precariously in the shallow surf.*  I quickly twisted them around so that they were on my spray skirt, lest they get caught on the bottom, only they were too long.  For the remaining 20 seconds of my flight from the surf, I paddled with the blades of my winged paddle in between my arms and arched my back sharply to keep them out of my face.

I was out of the rough spot.  I fixed my paddles.  I relaxed.  I was wet so the sun ducked behind clouds.  Steady paddling warmed me up.

Overall, the swells were moderate, and in the right direction. The area around Porto Cesareo is designated as a marine park, reason in itself not to skip ahead with the crossing I attempted the previous day.

There were a bunch of islands around the port and a healthy wildlife consisting mainly of scuba divers.  Just as I pulled into the port, a perfectly sized cresting wave hit and I surfed it in hoping that my super cool moment had a witness.

The port was full of boats and in the center of town.  It seemed like the perfect place to steal a kayak, so I asked where the Lega Navale was.

I paddled under a bridge and continued just past the edge of town to an isolated port with a guard 24/7 that was happy to host me in the room next to their office for the night.  Friendly faces, internet, a port a potty, and a cold water hose shower are all this fellow needs to feel really great.

*In the Gulf de Lions I lost a paddle this way.

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Nautical miles paddled: 8.5

Tota l since Naples: 541.5

Current location:  40.253525,17.905493

Every supermarket in town is closed between 14:00 and 17:00 except for the one I waited patiently outside of.   That one closes at 14:00 on Mondays for the rest of the day.  I haven’t studied much WWII history, but I’d like to think the numerous bunkers in this region are in tact because the allies had enough sense to attack while every single Italian in the country was on break between 14:00 and 17:00.