‘I was blown in a huge circle around the Ionian’
Eighteen months ago, I left East Anglia in my Westerly GK-29 cruiser-racer, bound for Istanbul.
My progress was naturally slow at first as I had never sailed before but, by the time I left Reggio Calabria, on the toe of Italy, I felt pretty confident that I could take the passage to Kefalonia in my stride.
My sharp lookout gradually relaxed as the Strait of Messina opened into the Ionian Sea – the open expanse of light traffic and promised steady winds.
I don’t carry an Automatic Identification System (AIS), so I opted to head out and avoid the crowded shipping lanes and temperamental winds closer to land.
My course might add a day or two to what would otherwise be a three-day crossing but, as the sun went down behind the plume of Etna, I smiled at my good instinct. A dark anvil of thunder clouds was growling and flickering over the Italian coast.
In open water I could adjust the sails less often and sleep longer to the soft creaking of the pulleys which comprise my self-steering system. For the next 72 hours I read, swam, gazed at the
