Straight from Messina

Today's blog posting is brought to you by Marcus, arguably the most scurvy of Petronella's scurvy crew.


It's a pleasant evening and a Sicilian is taking a quiet walk along the north coast of the island when his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of distant chanting. He squints and refocuses his view out into the Tyrrhenian Sea. There, sailing neatly along is a majestic green boat, with four animated people up on deck. He squints his eyes. All four crew appear to be chanting. He stops walking to focus his hearing on the chanting, which he can just about make out over the sound of lapping waves. He hears something, but thinks he must be mistaken. He listens again. Yes, he was right the first time. "White Chocolate, White Chocolate, White Chocolate!" it goes, just as he had thought. "White Chocolate, White Chocolate, White Chocolate!" Cioccolato blianco? Thinks the Sicilian. What on earth could be the meaning of this?


It may not have meant anything to our Sicilian friend, but the chant was in honour of a Petronella landmark. Since trundling out of Kas marina some 45 days ago, she has now completed 1,000 nautical miles in her trip to the Caribbean. And what better way for her crew to celebrate than with a few chunks of the sweet stuff.


The landmark came at the end of a day of vigilance up the Stratto de Messina (Messina Straight). After leaving George's Buoys (which, it turns out are a series of mooring points, not an East London gang) at Taormina, we headed north up the straights and prepared to bid farewell to Sicily.
Early speeds of five to six knots were promising, those these soon took a hit as peculiar currents slowed us down just as we reached the busy entrance to Messina. Dragging along a just a couple of knots, we were like a geriatric crossing a motorway as we trundled across the ferry routes shuttling between Sicily and mainland Italy.


Once clear of the ferries, our attention turned to the large number of swordfish boats that we were now surrounded by. Apparently swordfish have a tendency for taking naps while floating on the surface of the water. To catch them, you first need to spot one basking, before fatally jabbing it with a harpoon before it can stir. To achieve this, swordfish fishermen use boats with a very high tower built on deck, with a basket perched at the top. This basket, about shopping trolley sized, tends to contain three men on the lookout for the drowsy prey. Out the front of the boat is a long cantilevered walkway which, once a swordfish is spotted, sees a member of the crew scuttle along, harpoon in hand. Communication between the basket and the walkway takes place via the medium of shouted Italian. On more than one occasion we witnessed a fish being spotted, orders being barked, a boat veering off towards its prey, harpoon guy running along platform ready to strike. However, on none of these occasions did we see anything captured. Not an easy task, it seems.


The same can't be said of Petronella's fishing prowess. Not long out of the shipping lanes, the fishing rod out of the back exploded into life. All crew scampered to the rear witness the reeling in. It was a big one, putting quite a bit of strain on the line. "One this size would be just great," said Gill, indicating something about ten inches long with her hands. John continued to reel, it was getting closer, almost out of the water. Here it comes…


Well, I guess a bit of ripped fishing net might come in handy sometime.

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