Friday the 25th of April
Effortless sailing to Ventotene, though the wind did get somewhat boisterous upon arrival. I made for the old port (originally carved out of the bedrock by the Romans) and moored bow-to to the quay.
I don’t even try to berth stern-to with Eileen of Avoca. The slightest breeze makes maneuvering in reverse (an arcane art practiced by only a few brave Yarmouth 23 owners) an unpredictable and potentially hazardous exercise.
This island is a scuba divers paradise but has little else to offer tourists on an extended stay. As I looked over the produce displayed on a small three-wheeled van the purveyor came to tout his wares. “Seven Euro and made with my own hands” he stated enthusiastically while I examined a jar of pickled capsicum. After this unexpected proclamation I couldn’t help but turn to examine his dirt-encrusted fingers as he reached for the jar.
I reluctantly abandoned my intended purchase.