Leaving Tunisia was necessary as we had used up our patience and desire to do any more travelling in said country. There were many more places that we would have liked to see but these pleasures will have to wait for another time...... perhaps. For now, we can enjoy a cold beer in a bar, overlooking the port, while the testosterone fuelled locals fly up and down the dock, racing their tricked up hatchbacks and stink wheeled scooters. You know your back in Europe.
Has anyone outside of Italy heard of Lampedusa? Of course not! It’s like the world has no idea where the Isle of Wight is. Just so you can picture it, Lampedusa is 100miles west of Malta, below Sicily. It has become the number one location for desperate Africans, hoping to make a better life for themselves in Europe. Every week, boatloads of bedraggled asylum seekers/illegal immigrants are rescued from the stolen RIB’s (or whatever they are escaping on), by the Italian Navy and brought to Lampadusa to be processed. The locals are not happy with the situation and it appears that there is no solution to the problem; at least, if there is a solution, it’s not working. The poor but fortunate survivors are re-clothed in check shirts and shipped to Sicily for an education in western democracy and welfare. Good old tax payers. It’s ironic that at one time we used to chain them together and drag them to our countries to abuse them, now they come of their own free will.
For an isolated atoll, Lampedusa is thriving. Predominantly on subsidised fishing and ‘tourism’ as agriculture was not viable after they cut down the entire tree population and the soil blew away. The Hotel business is great if you are ‘in’ with the boys in blue. The other immigrants are the Police from Italy; here to make sure that the rioting ‘blacks’ don’t get too near the locals. I’ve not seen this many coppers since Arthur Scargill gave the Met’ as much overtime as they could possibly squander, beating up the miners. (don’t get me started!)
I met the skipper of a Freighter that makes regular trips to Africa, exporting fish from the local farm. It’s a lucrative market and one that makes good money from what we could see of the business.
The ferry from Palermo also drops off two 40 foot trailers to be filled with fish from the farm, twice a week.
The boat was originally from Lerwick but the English captain had not been back home for years, preferring to fight his way through the warm Med’ than rough it in the North Sea.
When the ferry arrives, it’s like all the island comes to the dock to collect goods or send some back to Sicily. All the fruit and veg, the building materials, toys for the kids, scooters, trees, you name it, it’s on the ferry. As in Africa the trucks are on the stops with the loads they are carrying, piled so high they can hardly get inside the boat. The locals do the same with their three wheeled Piagio pickups; in Lampedusa there are no rules. The police are busy having a coffee or working out in the hotel gym, they don’t care if you have three people on your scooter, none of them wearing any protection.
The dogs here are quite different from Africa or Europe in that they are all so friendly. Instead of trying to bite your leg off, they all want a fuss! This Critter sister was sitting outside the shop when we walked past, she came up for a stroke and then followed us back to the boat and sat on the dock for half an hour waiting to come aboard. She was too fat for me, I like my Bitches a bit thinner....
We had a couple of ‘strays’ follow us round the town for a while, they lay on the floor of the coffee shop while we chilled out, waiting for us to move on. The guy’s looking after the place took no notice of the great big Alsatian looking brute and the fluffy Labrador, taking up floor space. Dogs are OK but smoking inside is still a No No, those guys have to go outside. What a good setup....
Gay and I took a walk round the airport perimeter that ends just above us at the high point of the island. They have a couple of flights arrive and depart every day and the odd military plane comes in. It’s a great place to come and spot Birds, not just the ones on scooters but the feathered variety. They migrate from Africa to Europe and drop off for a bit of a rest. At least they don’t get shot out of the sky the moment they arrive like they do in Malta, bastards!
Gay saw a Golden Oriole, we have Spanish Sparrows, Sardinian Warblers, Yellow footed Gulls, Pipits’ and finches, to name but a few of those that I can identify. They say there used to be wild boar here in the 1800’s but all we’ve seen is a few rabbits chewing on the multitude of wild herbs. Sadly the same blight that has affected the date palm in morocco has taken its toll here too and most of the large Palms that were abundant are but stumps, cut off at ground level.
When we arrived on Tuesday night it was difficult to see the entrance of the port as there was so much back light from the surrounding buildings obscuring the navigation lights. The full moon made the water shimmer and highlighted the peaks and troughs as we motored at full speed to get through them. We did not see the fishing boat smashed up on the rocks till the next day, still being pounded by the relentless waves. The story goes that the Skipper fell asleep? No one died. The fish delivery boat is fighting its way in behind the wreck.
Latest update..... Following the atrocious conditions that have been pounding Lampedusa since Saturday, the fishing boat has been washed off the rocks and has disappeared completely!
We got warning of a big low pressure front moving northeast from Libya on Friday so when the wind picked up during the night we decided we had better get away from the harbour wall and find a secure fix inside the ferry docking area. The locals were all trying to make their fishing boats safe by moving them away from the wall and double anchoring them to the available lines. Sadly for us, this area is too shallow so we had to pick up a line used for one of the trawlers.
Our anchor had been down since we arrived and seemed to be holding well so I left it. I put another long line from the bow and dropped all the other dock lines so we drifted out, off the wall. Still not close enough to pick up the trawler line so another line was attached to the dock line and we moved to where we could pick the line up. It was a massive piece of hawser and looked strong enough to hold a battle ship. I double roped it to the bow so we now had three fixes, the hawser to starboard, the anchor forward and a long line to the shore.
By this time, about 9.30am, the wind was building from the south west and big waves from Libya were charging into the port.There is no breakwater outside so the first thing in their path is the wall of blocks that protects the new fishing harbour and the navy boats. No chance!
They just flew over the top of the wall, straight into the navy boats, it must have been like living under a waterfall. The poor guys were in their storm gear trying to secure everything on deck and keep the deluge from getting inside. These pictures were taken whilst I could still get outside the boat. Within another hour the wind was blowing force 10 and gusting stronger. I have never been in such a fierce storm and we were getting hammered.The noise of the wind alone was bad enough but seeing 25 foot tall breaking waves roaring past us only 100 feet away was alarming, to say the least. To add to the misery the waves were coming over the ferry wall (above left is the ferry wall, opposite the breakwater)
forming new waves in front of us then pitching us up in the air like a plastic duck in a bath. The anchor chain was tied off before the winch to take the strain off it but the two pieces of 8mm sheet cord snapped like cotton under the strain. The winch was then being ripped off the deck and it was a complicated and desperate task to remove the load from it, bearing in mind it was blowing 60knots, raining and the deck was jumping up and down like a demented space hopper. I fixed three bridles to the chain and tied them back to the shroud plates and the toe rail. I then fixed another piece of chain with shackles back to another shroud plate. Every time we got hit the smaller chain would flack against the deck and the hawser ropes would squeal through the fairlead. It was so mad we got our valuables in the Grab bag in case we had to abandon Christina Lee...In hindsight, we were lucky. We got ourselves off the wall with enough time to prepare for the worst of the weather and managed to keep ourselves fixed. Others were not so lucky. From the deck I can see four sunken fishing boats and another washed up on the beach. We have yet to get back to the shore and survey the rest of the port for damage.
Don’t ever think that living on a yacht is like one long holiday..... its lots of short ones, interspersed with times when you wish you were someplace else...
......All calm now and the wind has dropped. Might be time to get a stern line to the shore and go and have a few deserved beers..............
Till the next time.
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