About yachting in Croatia

This summer we had the opportunity of spending nine days on board our friends’ Gianni and Serena’s yacht off Croatia.  When I say yacht I don’t mean a floating gin palace but a modest 11 metre sailing boat.  It’s actually their summer mobile home away from home, somewhat more attractive to me of course than a caravan.

Gianni who is from the mountains and also a ski instructor had always told me that as a mountain lover I would also love yachting.  That may seem paradoxical but it turned out to be quite true.  You have in both cases to adapt to a more modest lifestyle closer to nature.  In the mountains you only have with you what you can carry and you accept with gratitude the modicum of comfort a mountain hut has to offer ;  on a yacht space is at a premium and you have to simplify your daily habits.  In the mountains there are certain technical procedures you have to master and use as second nature ; on a yacht too (should I mention here the special pump action of the on-board toilets).  In the mountains you are in contact with vast open spaces and have to respect the forces of nature ; on a yacht too.  In the mountains you experience a feeling of awe at the scale and beauty of nature and a humility before it ; at sea on a small vessel too. In the mountains working together as a team in this environment gives you a sense of solidarity, camaraderie and freedom ; on a yacht too.

Gianni and Serena are both experienced seafarers. Theirs is an original love-story.  Both had recently broken up from their first marriage. Gianni as a hospital doctor had accumulated a vast amount of overtime he had to take at short notice in November as leave.  Serena having extricated herself from the small business she ran with her former husband wanted some time away.  Both being keen sailors and wanting to realize their dream of crossing the Atlantic on a yacht they signed up for the same three week trip on which all on board had to participate in navigating the sailing boat taking it in turn in watches round the clock. Serena was the only woman on board. That was how they met. If you can survive such an intense close quarter experience, you’re probably off to a good start for living together.  As land came into sight they we’re the only ones sad that it was over.  Back home at different ends of Northern Italy it didn’t take long before Serena moved to Piedmont. Later Gianni stopped working and they bought a small yacht together to sail away for a year and a half from Italy to Greece and Turkey.  Astridos, their present bigger boat is their second.  Suffice it to say that living on a boat is second nature to them.

Before taking up their generous offer to join them on board, there were  three main concerns in my mind.  What would it be like living in close confinement with another couple for a week ?  Would I be seasick ?  Would I fry to death being with nowhere to hide from the sun all around and reverberating off the water ?  Actually none of these fears was founded.

Gianni, Serena, Clara and myself have been on holiday three times together skiing in the Dolomites, staying in self-catering accommodation and spending the whole day outdoors together.  So we know we get along fine, share the daily food related chores without any problem, and have often sat all four of us together on the same chair-lift.  In fact on an 11 metre boat there is plenty of space with a separate cabin for each couple at opposite ends and anyway in a Croatian summer you’re outdoors most of the time, so we never felt on top of each other.

Off the Croatian coast there are one or two chains of islands.  If you sail between these and the mainland you never actually enter the open Adriatic.  The whole time you are on a calm inner sea.  The biggest waves to contend with are when some moron in a high-powered speed-boat unnecessarily cuts across your bows.  Actually an 11 metre boat is big and heavy enough to be pretty stable, it doesn’t rock when you walk up and down it, or do anything else energetic for that matter. So sea-sickness is really not an issue.

Astridos has a very comfortable main area below deck in which you can stand up, so it was possible to retreat inside if necessary during the hottest hours of the day.  Outside she is well equipped with a big and thick canopy over the steering area so that you can stay out of the sun there too.  I actually pursued a policy of no sun-cream, just stay in the shade and managed not to get sun-burned at all, apart from…

The main and most enjoyable activity for me on a Croatian summer holiday is swimming in the warm crystal clear water of the sea.  On a boat you don’t have to walk to the beach, you just go over the side when you feel like it.  The first thing I would do in the morning at 7 or before would be to get out of bed, walk through the boat and go straight into the water for half an hour or more.  Then several times again in the course of the day, as of when we had anchored or moored somewhere.  In fact I was swimming two to three hours a day every day.  Bliss.  Soon, as we settled in and became more relaxed so as not to stand on ceremony, it became clear that swimming costumes were a waste of time as they only slow down drying off.  Moreover, swimming naked is one of life’s great pleasurable sensations.  The only problem is that some parts of us are not so often exposed and therefore rather delicate, so I did get fairly sun-burned on my bum.

Serena and Gianni keep their boat in Monfalcone which is at the northermost point of the Adriatic (indeed of the Mediterranean for that matter) .   From there they sail South along the Croatian coast for two months every summer, until such time in the future when for family reasons they may be freer to take longer and go further.  To get the boat there to begin with they also had to sail it all the way round Italy from Liguria.  Of all the places they have sailed they reckon Croatia is the best.  The coast is really beautiful, there are countless islands, hidden inlets and bays, and plenty of protection from the open sea if needed.  It’s one big playground for yachtsman and in the season there’s plenty of them, including quite a few inexperiended ones on charter boats. Therefore, they prefer to go in June and July and be back for August when it’s too hot and too busy and they can return to the cool and peace of their home in the Alps.  Sounds like a good plan to me. 

This means that when we joined them early in July they were already on their way back up.  I mention this because the predominant winds in the Adriatic blow down from the North.  This was all too well known to the great maritime republic of Venice, the Serenissima, which could deploy its naval forces southwards quickly. However, coming back home means the wind is predominantly against you.  So although we hoisted the sails whenever we could on Astridos, most of the time we made a stately progress under power.  So I can’t claim we were actually ‘sailing’ most of the time, but when we were it was something else.  There is something truly magnificent about being under sail, the sudden silence where the engine noise is replaced by the whoosh and creaking of being driven along by the force of nature. Perfectly on cue, the very first time we hoisted sail, we saw our first dolphins leaping out of the water in the middle distance, it seemed somehow appropriate.

So there wasn’t really enough opportunity to become expert in the finer points of sail management but I was happy to pull on a rope or feed one out when told to.  On the other hand I did take my hand at steering quite a bit, even if Astridos has a modern auto-pilot.  In fact she is superbly equipped with electronic gadgetry displaying at an easy glance, the compass bearing, wind speed, actual speed of the boat and depth of water under the boat (which can vary quite alarmingly off some islands) , plus of course GPS to show you exactly where you are and how you’ve been zigzagging. Steering under sail was the most fun, seeing how much speed you could get up, actually faster than with the engine, by steering more or less into the wind. It would be easy to get interested in the techinical skills and arts of sailing and navigating and I admire those who have mastered them.  I think I admire especially the ability to manœuvre at close quarters, which would certainly have me worried about banging into something and doing irreperable damage.  Needless to say the skilled sailors took over from the novices as soon as things got tricky !

Perhaps I should briefly describe our itinerary, though ultimately it is of secondary importance.  We joined Astridos at a marina in Murter from where we sailed to a fine bay on the island of Zirje and discovered how for the night you can tie up at a specially installed buoy and part with your rubbish to the man who comes in a boat to collect your not exactly modest parking fee.  Our next overnight was for free in a small fjord like estuary south of the more famous Krka one.  From there it was too Prvic Luka off a small port on a typical small Croatian island with neat old villages linked by an attractive path through Mediterranean vegetation.

The highlight for me though was always going to be sailing through the National Park of the Kornati islands, a large arhicpelago of barren round islands with stone walls and grazing sheep, somehow strangely reminiscent of Yorkshire.  This was the way to visit them, leisurely on our peaceful boat with an overnight stay at the park’s marina, instead of being packed onto a day outing boat from one of the ports on the mainland.  Next came the wonderful Telascica Bay with its famous cliffs, every bit as good as their reputation.  Logistics compelled us to spend a night back in civilization at the noisy port of Sali.  Here we decided to stay on an extra two days allowing us to overnight at Mala Rava, one of Gianni and Serena’s favourite spots, and very pretty it was too with the usual excellent swimming.  From there it was to Brgulje from where we could get an early morning ferry to Zadar and a taxi back to our starting point, leaving our friends to continue sedately northwards back to Monfalcone.

As a new experience I found it all quite enthralling and quite in keeping with my temperament.  The mountaineer in me found he relished the similar experience of sailing and the holiday-maker was more than happy to adapt to the slower pace, with time for enjoying the simpler pleasures of life and contemplating the beauty of the surroundings.  All of this of course is wonderful to share with friends.

About my reading in 2012

I don't seem to have read that many books last year, or maybe it's just that some of them were rather thick.

As it was the Dickens bi-centenary I was going to read a few of his thick novels that I hadn't already read, but in the end two were enough.  "Dombey and Son" has all the usual comic and tear-jerking elements,  many-layered plot and host of well drawn characters.  "Martin Chuzzlewit" is particularly amusing in its put down of Americans; it's interesting to see how little love was lost between the British and them already a century and a half ago (or maybe historically post American Revolution that should be 'still').  Afterwards I contented myself with David Lean's film of "Oliver Twist" and a BBC "David Copperfield" featuring among others a very cute pre Harry Potter Daniel Radcliffe as the boy David.  No, rereading all of them was going to be too much like hard work: it takes a degree of patience and determination to plough through Dickens for all his good points.

A somewhat thinner comic novel from the 19thC was Thackeray's "Barry Lyndon" which is terrific fun, faster moving and lighter than Dickens (also of course an excellent Kubrick film).

Another thick novel was Grosman's "Life and fate", a Soviet attempt at « War and Peace » set around the battle for Stalingrad and actually banned in the USSR for its not too flattering portrayal of society.  It's certainly not as good as Tolstoy but pretty interesting, though admittedly rather bleak.

On the recent fiction front I read Ian McEwan's latest novel "Sweet tooth" about spying in the 70's which I enjoyed.  

Julian Barne's "Arthur and George" is based on the true story of a man wrongly accused of killing horses and Conan Doyle who took up his cause.  

Kathryn Stockett's highly successful "the Help" is also based on the true stories of black servants working for white families in the Southern States in the 60s.  

Philip Roth's family saga "American Pastoral" is the tale of how a Jewish immigrant's son's quest to be an all American hero is wrecked by his daughter's anti-Vietnam war terrorist activities. It starts well but in the end I found its inconclusiveness rather frustrating.  

Last year's Graham Greene was his late and comic  "Monsignor Quixote" a delightful road trip through Franco's Spain between a priest in disgrace and a communist former mayor, affording plenty of opportunities for amusing philosophical discussions.

In a gesture towards reading in German I read the fascinating "die Purpurlinie" written by Wolfram Fleischhauer (a colleague of mine) which explores the possible story behind the curious painting in the Louvre of two naked women in a bath-tub, one pinching the other's nipple.

On to genuine history and biography.  My (re)reading of Gibbon took me through volume 2 of "Decline and Fall" but faltered around Justinian in volume 3.

I think the book I most enjoyed last year was Edmund De Waal's "The Hare with amber eyes" which is a history of his Jewish family, the Ephrussis who originated as grain merchants in Odessa moving on to become important financiers in Vienna and Paris.  The main character in the section on late 19thC Paris was one of the models for Proust's Swann. He amassed a collection of Japanese miniature sculptures or 'netsuke' including the hare with amber eyes of the title.  The collection passed as a wedding present to the Vienna branch of the family who are described in the next section from the apogee of the Austro-Hungarian empire with the cultural and intellectual ferment in Vienna, through to the Anschluss by the Nazis and the inevitable catastrophe for the family.  The netsuke collection survives and comes back to Japan with the author's uncle who settles in Tokyo.  It's a fascinating and beautifully told story covering some momentous periods in European history as experienced by family members. 

Alex Ross's "the Rest is noise" is a stimulating and broad account of the history of 20thC classical music, refreshingly free from the critics' common obsession with Schoenberg and his un-listenable successors, and instead keen to present enthusiastically all the many strands interwoven in the serious music of the last century, in a way whch had me reaching for some of the less listened to parts of my CD collection.

Last year's De Botton was "Essays in love" which dissects in his usual amusing and insightful way the psychological and philosophical implications of progress through a love affair.  This prompted me also to re-read Alberoni's "Inamoramento e amore", which is far more serious.

On my way to seeing/reading the complete works of Shakespeare, as well as a preparatory pre-perfromance reading of "Richard II" I also read "Troilus and Cressida" for the first time.  I've got another four to go.

I admit to re-reading Woolf's "the Waves", for the seventh time.  I don't tire of it because of the beauty of the language and truth of the feelings described.  In a particulalry sad moment I also re-read all of Baudelaire's "les Fleurs du Mal" for the first time in a long while, but I had to conclude that alongside my favourite poems, there are a good many I don't care that much for, so I'll stick to my edited highlights in the future.

A fairly thin crop for 2012 then, with the usual domination of fiction and some re-reading.

About snow-shoeing

For all my winter outdoor activities over the years I had never got round to snow-shoeing.  I guess that's partly because as a skier I had always regarded it as a bit infra dig.

However, my mountaineering companion, Alex, doesn't ski and so for a winter weekend in the mountains snow-shoeing was always a possible option for the two of us.

Quite suddenly on New Year's Eve Alex proposed an outing and three days later we were on the evening plane to Geneva.  There is something exhilirating about doing something at the drop of a hat on minimal forward-planning.  With no time to build up expectations everything is a pleasant surprise. I think I shall make spontaneity a New Year's resolution, if that is not an oxymoron.

A short drive in a hire car brought us late at night to the small picturesque Savoyard village of Abondance in France to the South of the lake.

There was little snow left in the village (850m) and the valley was in cloud the next morning – not a promising start.  Still we hired the snow shoes and bought the wherewithal for a picnic, crusty baguette, the outstanding local mountain cheese and a saucisson and then headed up a steep side road in the car to where the snow started (1100m).

This looked more like it, a bit off the beaten track but signs of other walkers having set out, I confess to not actually having the relevant map.  The basic idea was to stick to a totally safe non avalanche-prone route mainly on forest track.  There would be no ARVA, shovel and probe for this one, unlike when I go ski-touring.  Actually I was in the mood for something risk-free and non-technical.

We adjusted the straps and foot-length on the snow shoes as explained in the shop.  In the old days they looked like a pair of tennis rackets (hence the French expression "raquettes") but not any more.  Your modern snow shoe is a fairly lightweight piece of heavy-duty plastic shaped like a boat.  It is equipped underneath with several steel points to stop it slipping when icy.  You strap it onto a regular hiking boot by tightening adjustable straps similar to those on a snowboard.  The heel is free but can be blocked for steep descent, so you don't go arse over tit if your foot gets stuck.  The rear blocker can also be used as a wedge beneath the heel for steep ascent, all this being very similar to a ski-touring binding.  The pivoting toe section is equipped with crampon front pointers should the going get really tough.  In short the modern snow shoe is a convincing bit of kit, with several refinements that go beyond merely presenting a large enough surface to prevent sinking into the snow too far.  The only other thing you need of course is a pair of sticks.

After a couple of false starts we headed off in the right direction and suddenly the clouds started to disperse, initially inundating us with a special blue light then lifting to reveal a wall of snow dusted cliffs and peaks at the end of the valley.  The forest track wound steadily upwards and walking with the snow shoes came naturally, you didn't have to keep your legs too far apart to prevent yourself standing on the other shoe and it was only marginally more tiring than walking without them.  However, stepping backwards to take a photo proved to be problematic.

At one point we could see that our track did a number of zig-zags before emerging out of the trees much higher and there was a clear direct steep route up off the track where people had skied down.  This was too good to resist so we struck out into some seriously deep and later steep snow to see how the shoes performed in more serious conditions.  They went remarkably well, holding me securely and comfortably.

We emerged from the shade into the sun at a high Alpine pasture dotted with small closed-up summer chalets under snow-covered roofs.  From here a narrower path was signed as leading to a pass up a safe looking route, so since it was still early this seemed a reasonable destination to aim for and we climbed on.  The views got better and better.  It was a tonic to see clear blue sky with the sun reflecting of the dazzling snow after two weeks of indifferent grey weather in Brussels.  At the top we could see across to a distant jagged ridge.  We realized from a sign that we had come up 600m and hence were feeling a bit tired so sat down to enjoy our picnic in the sun and admire the view.  This was most definitely what we had come for.

On the way down we couldn't resist the temptation of taking the same short cut and had to work out the best technique.  I went for blocking the heels and semi-gliding down in a line perpendicular to the slope.  The deep snow and steel points on the shoes offered sufficient grip to remain in control and it was geat fun to stride on down the steep hill through virgin snow.

Snow-shoeing was turning out to be easy and enjoyable.  I confess to being slightly envious of those on touring skis shooting past us occasionally.  It confirmed what I knew that it's faster and less tiring to ski back down (though obviously more tiring and a bit slower uphill given the weight of the skis on your feet).  Because of that you can cover much more ground on skis than on snow shoes. Still on relatively easy terrain for a leisurely day out snow shoes are an attractive option requiring little technique.  

Snow-shoeing offers a great opportunity to get out into that special crystal clear silent environment that is the mountains in winter.

About being here (6)

Dear reader,

Welcome to season 6 of about being here.

Last year’s posts again tailed off as I became otherwise (pre-)occupied.

Or maybe it’s simply because the subjects left to write on are running out.

So no objective for this year.

ABH