Missy Bear and the Deathly Shallows

Chart of the Fornelli Passage

Skipper and First mate had been having a heated debate the previous night about something called the ‘Passage di Fornelli’. I don’t know who Fornelli was, but his (or her - but unlikely let’s be honest) intrepid navigation skills had given us a conundrum.

Having been encouraged by Skipper to read the Almanac about our trip up the north west cost of Sardinia, First Mate now realised that Skipper intended to save well over 20NM of distance to our destination of Stintino, by using this treacherous shortcut.

Now, whereas Skipper has derring-do (although he doesn’t wear an ear ring, nor mascara), First Mate is more cautious. And rightly so. That’s why we make a good team. For example, First mate is always the first to state, “I think we should put a reef in!”

First Mate was not best pleased, as the minimum depth we could experience in the gap was about 3m, and Missy Bear draws 2.17m. She wanted to know what the wind speed was going to be, and the swell, and lots of other things. All good points; the swell in particular is the real problem, as in the bottom the trough of a 1m wave, we would effectively lose another 0.5m of depth.

But Skipper had looked at his weather forecasting sites; and the wind speed, and the wind gusts, and the wave heights, and he was sure the situation for a safe traverse would be in place.

First Mate was not convinced. Skipper went on to concede that, if we got to the passage entrance and all was not well, and that no other yachts could be seen risking life and limb, we would go to plan B. Plan B was to travel the 28NM further around the Isola Asinara (an ex-penal colony and now a nature reserve); or to head back to a safe haven towards Alghero.

OK, deal!

I was up at 6:00 getting the boat ready, in case our 40NM trip became more like 70NM. We left the berth like a whisper, and I imagine our neighbours would not have realised we had gone. That’s how it should be; everyone knowing their jobs and no need to raise voices.

Capo Caccia, early.

We had a light breeze from the north and managed to sail to Capa Caccia, but then the wind died to F1, and we had to motor sail most of the rest of the way, as the sea surface became ever glassier. On one had it was frustrating to be burning more fossil fuel, but conversely, I was happy that we might sneak through the straits without any direness.

We passed the old silver mining town of Argenteria; you may remember, from an earlier blog, how the Aragonese coveted this asset, leading to their invasion and taking of the island from the Genoese and Pisans.

Note the flat topped spoil heap at the silver mine if Argenteria.

Eventually we saw the conspicuous tower on the northern promontory of the main island, and got out the binoculars to look for our leading marks. Leading marks are two man-made constructions one behind the other. They have been used for hundreds of years by sailors to navigate into harbour down safe passages, avoiding the rocks on either side. As long as you keep the two marks in line, you are safe. If the nearer mark moves to the right of the farther one, you steer to the right. And vice-versa.

Eventually First Mate saw the first two marks. Skipper dropped the speed. Off we went following the line, at about 072 degrees. As Fornelli’s passage has a dog-leg, there are two sets of leading marks, the second to guide you out. So, First Mate started looking for the second set, and lo, she spotted them; two painted rocks on a small, low island. This time, instead of looking forward, she had to look astern to keep the two marks in line, as we gingerly motored on a course of 127 degrees.

You could see the sand and the eel grass clearly through the gin clear water; the bottom looked pretty shallow. Skipper monitored the depth gauge, mentally subtracting 2.2m from the reading he saw, and mumbling that he must calibrate it to read ‘0.0’ from the bottom of the keel.

Soon we had passed into deeper water, so we sighed, slung the hook (for the first time) and relaxed. I had my first swim, and took the opportunity to make sure that we had indeed been given the folding propellor option. We had. And there was no damage, that I could see, from the incident where we hit a tree on the way to Alghero from Barcelona (we didn't mention that??)

Yes, they did fit a folding prop!

Stintino is a charming, one-street village developed from a 19th century fishing settlement. I believe it specialised in pinching dolphin food; sorry I mean tuna fishing, as evidenced by this picture on the wall of the street ‘via Tonnara’.

Local tuna fisherman.

As it now serves tourism to the nature reserve and amazing local beaches, it has many boutique shops, hotels and amazing food stores selling local Sardinian meats, cheeses and pasta. In the village square, there is a lovely compass of inlet metal inscribed with the names of the Mediterranean winds (see blog ‘We have wind’)

Compass of the winds.

We had arrived late, as requested by the marina, so we will do more shopping tomorrow. But we did manage to find two lovely cockpit cushions. Skipper and First mate are finding them sooooo comfy!