Cruising World - June 2018

june/july 2018

cruisingworld.com

38

O

verhead the sky still

swirled with torn gray

clouds, while below, a

decaying leftover chop lapped

at the hull as our three-cylinder

diesel ticked over another

hour on the meter. The wind

died with the sunrise, and by

midmorning we were fi nally

closing in. Moroccan highlands

stretched off to the south,

and the bold ranges of the

Iberian Peninsula formed an

imposing sight straight ahead.

We slowly passed a handful of

small fi shing boats long accus-

tomed to working here, one

of the world’s most celebrated

waterways. But my wife, Clare,

and I were all butterfl ies and

photographs. After 10 days of

lonely sea aboard Champagne,

our Dufour 35, we suddenly

found ourselves feeling

pinched between the masses

of two continents. We joined

the marching parade of AIS

triangles on our chart-plotter

screen, rounded the last bit of

Spanish headland and entered

the Strait of Gibraltar.

Having sailed almost

exclusively within the steady

reckoning of trade-wind wa-

ters, Clare and I struggled to

cope with the volatile nature

of the Mediterranean. Even

while still out in the Atlantic,

this great sea dictated our

schedule. The previous day,

we were prudent to reduce sail

and slow down our progress

upon nearing the strait

in order to avoid 40-knot

headwinds that were barreling

out from the Med. Once we

entered, the wind was calm,

then a day later, it reversed

direction and blew once more

with equal gusto.

We left Gibraltar and

headed for the Balearic Islands

of Spain, tallying up more

engine hours (due to light

winds) in that four-day passage

than we did crossing the bulk

of the Atlantic between Ber-

muda and the Azores. Then,

almost as soon as we got the

anchor down in Formentera,

a burst of hot, ovenlike air

blew around the protective

headlands, causing at least one

nearby boat to drag.

Despite all we’ve learned

during our fi rst season here,

we still feel a bit out of our

depths — often quite literally.

Not only are the anchorages

much deeper in the Med than

we are used to, but also the

coastlines are much steeper.

Every anchorage, no matter

how picturesque, is fraught

with worry: Will the wind

shift in the night, leaving us

exposed to a leeward wall?

Or will it increase and come

spilling down over these cliff

faces? Or will it die altogether

and leave us bouncing between

beam seas? We learned the

hard way on a couple of

occasions, even hitting an

uncharted submerged rock in

the middle of the night after

a 180-degree wind shift in

what was otherwise 15 feet of

surrounding water. Like the

closely stacked depth contours

of this region, the learning

curve here is steep, but the

rewards are worthwhile.

Compared to the New

World sailing we are familiar

with, every destination within

the Med is well-steeped in

the pages of history. Entering

Grand Harbor in Malta, for

example, is like sailing inside

a Renaissance castle. Pulling

into a sparsely populated cove

in Sardinia is akin to stepping

back into Italian history, but

with gelato and espresso at the

ready. These things, coupled

with the region’s dramatic

coastlines and abundant

natural beauty, ensure that the

Mediterranean is a world-class

cruising destination no matter

the weather.

And now, with the tantrums

of the Mediterranean summer

behind us, we are quickly learn-

ing the patterns of its winter.

The cyclic winds of the Med

are so well-versed that they

have their own names — Sci-

rocco, Vendaval, Levante, Melt-

emi, Gregale — and although

they occur throughout the

seasons, it’s mostly in winter

that they fi nd their stride. Af-

ter loading up the GRIB fi les

from our favorite wind sites, it

seems our screen is constantly

awash in hues of red, violet and

magenta. These strong winds,

coupled with the fact that

many seaside businesses close

down for the winter, mean that

most sailing is seasonal. And

after our last two blustery pas-

sages, we are grateful to have

secured long-term berthing

at a marina in Tunisia, where

we intend to hunker down for

the winter, and catch up on

that ever-growing list of boat

projects.

Zachary Krochina and his

Australian wife, Clare Jenkins, are

slowly sailing their 1 973 Dufour 35

to the Land Down Under.

Despite all we’ve learned during our first season cruising the Med, we still feel a bit

out of our depths — often quite literally.

BY ZACHARY KROCHINA

NEW LESSONS

from the OLD

WORLD

Wa y points

Once through the Strait of

Gibraltar (below) and into

the Med, Zachary and Clare

had to learn a whole new

sailing skill set.

ZACHARY KROCHINA