La Maddalena et le sud de la Corse

San Pantaleo

 A languid day in the very familiar setting of Porto San Paolo very soon turned into a week before we felt it was time to set off again. Just before we did though, the crews of Sirena and Rocko One went on a little excursion to the impossibly charming village of San Pantaleo. Home to about a thousand people in the summer and only scores in the winter, it positively bursts at the seams on a Thursday during the season, when the market comes to town and the population seems gain an order of magnitude. Atelier after Atelier sell wonderfully flowing and very individual dresses that catch the eye to the extent that the coffee shops and wine boutiques are heaving with spouses biding their time and managing their hydration levels. Even the street musicians are choreographed, being positioned just far enough apart from each other so as not to clash as well as catering to just about every taste. Impromptu dancing broke out when Tom followed by Susan and Catherine were inspired to take to the floor and engage with a local ‘personality’ whose undertaker garb belied an impish demeanour, all conspiring to create a memorable occasion.

Coltrane's cousin on holiday	Charlie and Tom
De rigueur dress for sailors and others	Bougainvillea everywhere
Comrades in arms	Blossom cloud

The sublime that followed was a visit to the Surrau winery, the setting of which rivals many a fine winery. The discreet architecture blends the buildings into the lush surroundings with natural materials creating an atmosphere reminiscent of wineries near Cape Town. We decided, this once, to follow experience and enjoyed their wines in situ rather than stocking up and risking spoiling the recollection. Sometimes memories travel better than bottles. I exaggerate slightly of course as we did buy some red Passito, which I am sure I will report upon in due course.

Buying wine in style

Tasting with a view

Storage solutions

The north east coast of Sardinia is home to more square metres of superyacht than you can possibly shake a stick at - or boat hook, if you prefer. Yet, the charm and beauty of the landscape remains only marginally diminished. We are pretty certain that it riles the owners of said Gin Palaces that we humble yachties share the same water and views and are able to sneak into some nooks and crannies where we find hardly any company other than fellow sailors. Last season we had decided to leave a visit of the Maddalena islands nature reserve for this year. It is a special place and has a veritable rule book that accompanies one’s entrance into it. Zero tolerance of waste of any form is one of the things and the turquoise water is a glorious testament to the success of what should be an obvious discipline. Even mildly soapy dishwater is not allowed, which is a good thing. One learns new habits on board a boat and one is how to deal with waste. There are tomes written about the blindingly obvious, but don’t create any is about the best advice one can receive or give.

Dead Man's Passage

Turquoise lagoon

We spent three days in the nature reserve and, while it is obviously a special place, I can’t help but feel that its image is ever so slightly oversold. As a consequence every square meter of usable anchorage is occupied until at least dusk when some semblance of calm prevails with the Cento Cavalli (the generic term for 100 or more horsepower speedboat things) and superyachts return from whence they came and mainly like-minded sailing types are left to enjoy the peaceful setting. Evocative names such as Dead Man’s passage describe lagoon-like areas next to gorgeous islands, one of which belonged to Garibaldi. There is probably some deeper meaning to the prevalence of past leaders and dictators owning and hailing from islands here, but our wine budget precludes too much speculation.

DIY Stonehenge on Lavezzi	Whose beach is this?
Tucked into Lazarina	Not too much chain out

A mere hour or so away to the west lies the familiar Lavezzi, which was home to us for a night last season. We managed to get into a small enclosed cove, Lazarina, where more than 5 yachts leads to permanent consternation. The water is pristine and the beach and paths into the rocky outcrops immaculately clean. It offers such protection from the elements that a sound night’s sleep is guaranteed.

Lunch stop sans tourists

Just before the swell

This was in rather sharp contrast to the following day when we decided to make some headway and, after a pleasant stop for Pastis to celebrate arriving in France, we anchored in Anse Fornellu. The backdrop of the wooded shore against mountains climbing to over 2500 meters is spectacular. The tranquility was quickly dispelled in the early evening though when a big rolling swell came in from the southwest, while the light wind kept us pointing exactly perpendicular to it. For once I got up and did something about it, attaching a line to the anchor chain and midship cleat and pointing us into the swell by locking off the rudder. The sideways rocking really will drive you nuts but the porpoising is fine. The original intention of staying a while was rather spoiled by the experience and we started to wend our way up the west coast finding a pretty, if busy, anchorage at Campomoro. There is a little, quite obvious truth here, if it is deserted, it is probably for a very good reason and if it is busy the exact same holds true. It feels like such a blend of Italy and France here that I totally forgot to hoist the French courtesy flag until the next morning. We are officially in France now..

Evidence of Elephants on Lavezzi....