11th August - Sciacca

High Point: A week’s wait in Sciacca marina for Fiona and the kids to arrive has given us the chance to take a break from sailing and explore our surroundings. We also have the time to service the engine; wash the running rigging and buff up the woodwork on the dorade boxes. So the boat’s generally in pretty good shape.

Low Point: Dense ‘Homeric’ fog and 30 degree heat – all at the same time. It is a bizarre experience to go for a swim off the beach in almost zero visibility, as if the air and the sea are the same soupy consistency. With none of the usual sea breeze to clear the air, it stays humid and airless all day. Our French neighbours joke it’s ‘comme en Angleterre’ – apart from the temperature, that is.

We have a blast down from Mazaro to Sciacca – 26 miles. We wait at anchor in Mazaro for the forecast NW5 until mid morning before getting on our way down to Cape Granitola, sailing with just the yankee. Once we round the point to head southeast, the wind is dead astern and stronger now. It’s quite a romp. We’re glad we don’t have the main up as it’s gusting 30 knots. Ahead of us, the spectacular Greek temple at Selinunte is visible on a hill just behind the beach. We average 6 knots all the way to Sciacca. It’s no trouble finding the harbour entrance as there’s a steady stream of trawlers heading in. Sciacca is a proper working fishing harbour with all the smells that go with it, and it has a big fishing fleet. We tie up in the small marina here, the friendly reception making us feel very much at home in no time.

To reach the town from the harbour you have to climb up a steep flight of steps – over 200 of them. But it’s worth it when you get there. The view from the main piazza back down to the port is breathtaking. And the town has plenty of historic buildings to see, colourful ceramics, a busy market and loads of ice-cream stalls. And no visit here is complete without going to see the Greek temple at Selinunte nearby, which we saw from the boat as we came along the coast. Cathy has been here before - in 1980 with her girlfriend Cly. It is sobering to think that it is almost thirty years ago since then, and only three years later she was dead. These ancient ruins rekindle the distant memory of that visit, and for a moment remembering her here brings us closer to her.

Leighton writes about Selinunte: Despite the searing heat and my ailing foot, we opted to walk the short distance to the temple ruins instead of taking the tourist buggy-train. The temple (which we’d seen from the sea) has been mostly reconstructed and it was an amazing experience to walk inside among the columns. Further out on the promontory overlooking the sea we could see the pillars of another temple, and despite it being some distance away, we hobbled off in the heat towards it. We had little information about Selinunte as Fiona was bringing out a guidebook, and there was little in the way of signs or information on the site. However, when we reached the temple ruins on the point it suddenly became clear that we were standing in the acropolis of an important ancient city that covered a huge area and had roads laid out in an orderly grid with streets, homes and shops. Much of the site has yet to be excavated. We later learned that Selinunte was one of the most impressive in the ancient Greek world and the city had over 100,000 inhabitants in its heyday before it was destroyed by an army of Carthaginians commanded by Hannibal in 409BC.

A stand of eucalyptus trees in a low area just below the acropolis grow on what was a shallow natural harbour used in Greek times. A river ran along the west side of the point. Sea to the south, fertile land for crops to the north, a natural harbour and fresh water from the river. It was obviously an ideal location, well able to support the population of the city. You are able to go everywhere on the site, there are no sections fenced off to prevent entry. This reminded me of my early visits to Stonehenge and the pleasure of wandering among the stones. There is something very special about walking down a 2,500 year old street, seeing the walls of what must have been shop fronts and imagining the butcher, the baker, dogs, children and throng of shoppers going about their daily business. At each intersection you look left and right. It’s difficult not to wonder ‘now what was down there,’ as you pass each side street. I have not experienced a site that is still so full of life as Selinunte. It is certainly one of the highlights of Sicily.

Back at the marina it occurs to us that we’ve not come across another British flagged boat since we left Sardinia. It’s a good thing we can rustle up a few words in several languages – speaking Russian is certainly unexpected. A number of Italian charter boats use the marina in Marsala as a base, but don’t venture along the south coast. The cruising folk here are mostly French. They sail from the French Riviera down the coast of Corsica and Sardinia, then over to Sicily. Many of them go on to Tunisia as well. We first meet Daniel and Genevieve and their two teenage kids in Marsala, and they turn up again in Sciacca. Over drinks we discover they’re on their way down to Malta before heading back to their home port of Toulouse. Claude and Dominique welcome us aboard Le Gribu II for an aperitif when they’re moored next door to us in Sciacca. They overwinter in Tunisia every year and they are on their way back there from cruising around the Ionian islands. What they have to say about the area makes us all the more impatient to get there.

We’ve met some eastern Europeans too. Alongside us in Marsala is a Cheoy Lee ketch from the Czech Republic with a young family living onboard. A 60’ steel motorcruiser registered in Batumi, Georgia arrives from Tunisia and ties up next to the Czech. The Georgian boat has sprung a hole in the hull (the result of electrolysis in Hammamet marina apparently) and although it’s leaking badly it can’t be lifted out until the next day. The Georgian skipper clearly needs help, so we lend him our hand pump. We reckon that Habib his paid hand will be the fellow who has to get pumping to keep the water level down. Whatever happened, they’re still afloat in the morning and we’re given an excellent bottle of Tunisian red wine as a thankyou.
The crew aboard a chartered 50’ Beneteau that arrives one evening in Sciacca are obviously Russian. What’s more, a teenage girl among them speaks perfect English because – of all unlikely things – she’s a pupil at Rugby! They’re gone by early the next morning, not before they managed to drain the voltage of the pontoon’s electricity supply overnight.