Happy Campers

Saffier SC 10m

I'm not an interior decorator, but I've been spending a lot of time lately looking at boat interiors. I want the space to be functional, but I also want it to be an inviting place where the girls will feel comfortable. A place they'll enjoy spending a bit of time on a rainy afternoon. Given the unpredictability of Irish weather, there could well be quite a few of those. It's essential that we get this right, otherwise I'll be facing a mutiny.

Traditional yacht interiors usually have lots of dark wood panelling, while traditional work boats tend to feature mostly white panelling with wood trim. In such a small space as ours I think we need to maximize the amount of light, so the "dark underground cave" is definitely out. At the same time the "hospital corridor" look can be very cold and uninviting.

I keep coming back to two boat interiors in particular, which are quite different and which I like for different reasons. The first is the Saffier SC 10m with its off-white hull and deckhead, warm wood furniture, and lovely powder blue upholstery. For me it strikes the perfect balance in terms of warmth, light, and comfort. The other one is the RM 880, which gives up some of the warmth, but gains in light and practicality. 

Alongside these “emotional” requirements, I also have a list of “functional” features that I want to incorporate. There is a fair bit of leeway in fitting out the interior, the main constraint being the position of the bulkheads. So the division of space is pretty much fixed, but you have plenty of freedom in filling out those spaces.

My list of functional features has been put together and refined after studying existing Cape Henrys (especially the Water Craft boat), other small boats like Cornish Crabbers, bigger boats like the RM 880 and the small Bavarias, and even camper vans. I have also read all the threads on the Cape Cutter forum, where improving the cooking facilities is a common theme.

On a comfort scale from one to ten, boats range all the way from “camping in a leaky tent” to “floating gin palace”. Small boats like ours are pretty much all found at the lower end of this scale, but I’m getting too old for leaky tents. And girls like comfort. We have to try to nudge things up the scale a bit. Bucket and chuck it is definitely out. The ambiance should be more like "glamping" than "camping". And good tea-making facilities are top priority.

Galley of an RM 880

With that in mind, my main “must have" functional items are a sink, cooker, built-in coolbox, and a portapotty. The sink should have a built-in water tank with a pump faucet. The cooker should have two gas burners. The berths should be long enough and wide enough for comfortable lounging and sleeping. There should be plenty of natural light during the day. There should be electric light for reading or playing Scrabble at night, and we need facilities for recharging phones and gadgets. A wet locker would be good, and if there was a way of fitting some kind of heating I'd like that too.

Doesn’t feel like I'm asking too much (except maybe for the heating...), but the main problem is that we just don’t know if we’ll be able to fit everything into the limited space available. Ideally I would like to have the cool things to starboard (sink and coolbox) and hot things to port (gimballed cooker). The portapotty should sit forward under the v-berth, against the hull and facing in towards the centre-line so that a curtain can be pulled across giving some privacy.

I bounce my ideas off Tiernan, who is open to pretty much anything but tries to steer me towards simple solutions. He suggests that I consider a portable cooler that could be filled at home, taken on the boat, and brought ashore for picnics on the islands. He explains that the number of electric items on board has to be determined by the size of battery and the facilities for charging the battery. Since we won't be going anywhere near marinas with shore power, the charging will either have to come from wind or solar. He doesn't like the idea of bonding insulation to the hull for a built-in coolbox and he doesn't like restricting access to the hull from the inside.

Thoughts on the galley are constantly evolving, as I discover that there is not really enough room for a sink and coolbox on the same side. We spend a lot of time looking for suitable portable coolers, but it looks like the only ones that fit will be very small. Things are complicated by the fact that I don't want to be looking at an ugly plastic cooler so it would have to be kept in an enclosed cupboard.

Tiernan comes up with the idea of using drawers in the galley units. At first I'm not sure, but the more I think about it the more I like it. You can easily access all the contents of a drawer, even stuff that's right at the back. Sliding a drawer out brings the contents out from the dark bowels of the boat into the light, there is much less stooping and digging required. When closed the clutter is all hidden out of view. Brilliant! I start looking for industrial strength stainless drawer sliders, and get sidetracked by the apparently common Australian practice of equipping pickup trucks with coolboxes on slides. Do a Google Image search for "pickup fridge slides" and you'll see what I mean. But Tiernan has other ideas. He wants to do something more traditional. Wooden sliders with "stops" to retain the drawers in place.

We mull over all these considerations and continue to search the internet for suitable hardware while work on the hull continues apace. Planking is on and the bottom is glassed and painted with CopperPlus. The hull was rolled over on Saturday, Dec. 7th. Current plans are to put a combined sink and cooker to port. Tiernan found one that has a useful sized sink, two burner hob, and will just fit. He's also thinking about insulating a big drawer for a coolbox. He has reservations about cutting out the bulkhead for access to the heads, since this is right under the mast. We might just set the portapotty facing aft instead, which rules out the curtain idea and any privacy. Probably not a real issue, we'll see.

We arrive in Ireland for the Christmas holidays, and I'm really looking forward to seeing the boat. Tiernan has mocked up some basic elements of the interior, so we'll get a better idea of what the space is like and especially the headroom. Things are interesting weather-wise as cyclone Dirk passes over the British Isles and leaves us without electricity on Christmas Eve. The gusts during the night are the most violent I've ever heard, like giant hammer blows against the house. And this house has two foot think stone walls. I lie awake for some time hoping the roof doesn't come off.

The aftermath of the storm leaves low-lying areas flooded and many roads blocked by fallen trees and branches. We planned to meet on the 27th so I'm keeping a close eye on the news hoping that the wind will die down and the roads will be passable. If not I'll just have to walk!

Finally the day arrives and we set off late morning towards Ballydehob and Roeboats. Tiernan and Bainne are once again there to greet us and we head straight for the workshop. Initially we are stunned by the size of the thing. It looks huge! Tiernan assures us that all boats shrink when immersed in water. We climb aboard and try sitting in various different positions inside and out, getting a feel for the ergonomics. I have to say that I am relieved. The interior feels roomy, not at all claustrophobic. Plenty of headroom. Comfy. He wants to make the cockpit coamings a bit wider than designed, and I agree that it will improve the seating in the cockpit. The only thing I can find fault with is the step down into the cabin which is quite high. Not sure if we need to do something about that. I can see the usefulness of the step as a seat and table also. And adding another step will take away some footroom. Eventually I have to be dragged out of the workshop and into the kitchen to warm up, but I'm consoled with complementary tea and home made mince pies. Merry Christmas!

Idealists, Optimists and Ergonomicists

Vitruvian Man (photo L Viatour)

I've never been on a boat that didn't have standing headroom. Taking measurements from my study plans, I've tried to mock up what the interior seating arrangement of a Cape Henry might be like. I'm slightly over 6ft tall, and I'm a bit worried about not being able to sit upright. I picture myself anchored in an idyllic bay for the night, reading a book and sipping a whiskey by candlelight with my head wedged at a 45 degree angle against the cabin roof, the centreboard case digging into my shins. Ideally I'm hoping for a comfort level similar to the back seat of a Ford Focus, but I'm not really sure what to expect. 

There's a company called Cornish Blue Sailing in Falmouth Bay that charters out similarly sized Cornish Shrimpers and Crabbers and we really should have planned things better and taken a weeks holiday on board one of them just to make sure this size of boat would work for us. But it's too late now! So I'm trying to be optimistic and put my faith in Messrs. Dix and Roe. 

At the same time, the Water Craft articles leave me with a niggling doubt. Mr. Goad found the cabin seating arrangement to be perfectible and did a fair bit of tweaking of the ergonomics. I want my boat to be perfect too, so all of this is preying heavily on my mind ... 

The Internet is an astounding place, and the variety of information that can be found never ceases to amaze me. And while those who design small car interiors for a living are not terribly generous in sharing their conclusions, others are. People who make chairs have obviously thought a lot about the "correct" dimensions for comfortable seating, and there has been much academic research into office furniture. Thanks to these furniture makers and researchers at Cornell University and elsewhere I've discovered that the ideal chair for the average 50th percentile human being has a seat height of 44 cm, a seat depth of 41.5 cm which is 7 degrees lower at the back, with a seat back height of 36 cm and a reclining angle of 10 degrees. 

Chair according to Wood Magazine

Unfortunately I'm taller than the 50th percentile human being and the interior dimensions of our boat preclude fitting this ideal chair anyway, so many late evening hours are spent taking measurements and sketching the slight adjustments and alterations that will be required to adapt this perfect seat to something that will fit both me and the boat. 

After much deliberation it turns out that in order reach perfection, we'll have to raise the seats by precisely 5 cm, move the seat back in by 15 cm with a vertical rise, and add a wedge-shaped cushion 50 cm high with an angle of 11.3 degrees slope. I sketch out my perfect seat, scan it, and send it to Tiernan. 

My design includes cave lockers in the vertical seat backs, similar to the Vivier designed Méaban, but Tiernan is not crazy about the idea of having to shift what will end up being big, heavy seat-back cushions in order to reach the contents. And he's not crazy about the idea of having to store the big, bulky seat-back cushions when it's time to sleep. Once again I'm discovering that everything on a small boat is a compromise. Adding something here means taking away something over there. And the smaller the boat, the bigger the compromise. 

Back to the drawing board?

Another flaw in my design is that it requires separate pillows for sleeping. Having items on a small boat which serve dual purposes result in huge savings in occupied space and a corresponding reduction in clutter. One of the big plus points of Dix's design is the feeling of openness and space. It gives the impression of being on a much bigger boat, so anything that goes against this principle will make for a more cramped and claustrophobic feeling. And I really dislike clutter.

The sleeping thing is a big issue because normal seats are not wide enough to sleep on, but a seat that is wide enough to sleep on is generally too deep for comfortable seating. It's a real balancing act. 

Tiernan has also studied ergonomics, and the end result of our discussion is that we agree to "wait and see". Once the boat is turned over we'll have a much better idea of what will work and what won't.

Sapele, Okoume, and Bruynzeel

Mosquito B.XVIs

We return to Paris and the grindstone. I've ordered a set of study plans, and all my spare time is spent thinking about the boat. There are many decisions to be made, and I don't want to hold things up by not having decided something, or needing to order something that we don't have and might be difficult to get. The first thing Tiernan will do is order the wood, so I start with that. 

The Cape Henry is built in epoxy coated plywood. When I asked Con what he thought about plywood boats, he shook his head disapprovingly and recommended GRP instead. Something like a Jeanneau Sun 2000. It's true that putting the words "wood" and "boat" together in the same sentence makes most boat owners wince. Lovely to look at from a distance, but the thought of actually owning one and being saddled with the continuous varnishing, painting, and otherwise battling against the inevitable decline into rot turns most people towards GRP. But when people think of wooden boats, they mean sawn planks of wood. This is the traditional boat building material that's been used since the dawn of time. And the one that scares people with images of rot. 

Plywood has been around for a long time. According to Wikipedia, an English engineer and naval architect named Samuel Bentham applied for several patents for machines used to produce wood veneers in 1797. In the applications he describes a process of glueing veneers together to produce the laminate now known as plywood. Constructing a wood laminate with the grain of subsequent layers in different directions results in a board that is more dimensionally stable, more resistant to cracking and less likely to warp than a sawn board. It can be thinner and lighter for the same strength. Aircraft engineers were among the first to exploit these advantages in extreme applications, culminating in the WWII de Havilland Mosquito. But airplanes don't spend their life submerged in water.

Corsaire n° 5 (collection Florence Herbulot)

In France there is a long history of plywood boats, and it is synonymous with the democratisation of sailing as a sport. Simple, affordable boats like the Corsaire, designed by J-J Herbulot for the Glenans in 1956, and the Muscadet and Armagnac (P Harlé, 1963 and 1966) led to the explosive growth of sailing as a hobby for the ordinary man. Many French navigators learned to sail on these boats. Many Muscadets have crossed oceans, and even taken part in Mini Transat races, and they still have loyal and passionate enthusiasts. But they were built before epoxy was used as an adhesive and coating, so they too have problems with rot.

The plywood-epoxy method of building boats was pioneered in the late 1960's by the Gougeon brothers in Michigan. They were the first to solve two historical problems in wooden boat construction. Firstly, using mechanical fasteners to join wood results in a weak point that must be compensated by using thicker, heavier pieces. And secondly, unprotected wood absorbs moisture and swells. Epoxy resins were beginning to be used as adhesives by pattern makers in the automotive industry at that time, and their moisture resistance was well known but they were difficult to work with and apply as a coating. In conjunction with chemists at the nearby Dow Chemical epoxy lab they were able to develop an epoxy that was suitable for boat construction. In 1970 they launched the first large wooden boat that was built without the use of fasteners and sealed from moisture. They soon started selling their resins to other boat builders, and the West System was born. Their book "The Gougeon Brothers on Boat Construction" is probably the most comprehensive book on the subject and is available as a free download here.

By the late 1970's, the new "lighter and faster" designs were proving their seaworthiness by challenging, and beating, the "heavier and slower" boats in ocean racing circles. In 1978 Mike Birch won the first Route du Rhum transatlantic race in a 37 foot composite trimaran, beating the 70 foot monohull Kriter V by 98 seconds after 23 days and 3,500 miles of racing. These days carbon fibre has replaced plywood-epoxy as the "composite" of choice in race boats.

RM 1060

The only modern-day boat yard that I'm aware of that builds a range of big cruising boats from plywood-epoxy is Fora Marine in La Rochelle. And their RM 1060 is my "lottery win" boat. There are many similarities between the RM 1060 and the Cape Henry. Light displacement, beamy, long waterline length, slippery underwater profile, shallow draught, twin head-sails, and plywood-epoxy construction. The RMs are very highly regarded in France, and that also reassures me.

Sapele and okoume seem to be the most commonly available types of marine plywood. They are both reasonably strong hardwoods, but sapele is heavier and stiffer whereas okoume is lighter and more flexible. Neither wood is very rot-resistant, but that's where the epoxy comes in.

I find the grain pattern of sapele to be more attractive, and the "stripeyness" could be used to good effect in the cabin. I'm thinking of leaving the galley units varnished, and the vertical orientation of the grain could add a feeling of height similar to the "short people should wear vertical stripes" thing. Tiernan considers this for a while but then reminds me that the grain in the bulkheads will be horizontal. We decide that we could veneer the galley units later if we want to. He goes ahead and orders 36 sheets of okoume. Building is about to start in earnest.

As for the longevity of our boat, only time will tell...

Decisions, decisions...

A Ninigret, built by Roeboats

Tiernan replied that yes he would be interested in building a Cape Henry, and that he could have it ready for next summer. We were coming to Ireland for summer holidays so we arranged to visit him at his workshop. He is just putting the finishing touches to a 16 ft sharpie and we'll be able to take a look at that boat while we're there. In the meantime I try to find out everything I can about the Cape Henry, and a bit more about Roeboats. 

Tiernan seems to have an interesting and varied background. Comes from a family of furniture makers, lived in Germany for a while, worked on movie sets, has a lifelong interest in all things nautical, and settled in West Cork to start building boats. There is of course another boat builder in West Cork, Liam Hegarty of Oldcourt. But Hegarty's Boatyard specialises in traditional boats built using traditional methods and materials. And while the Cape Henry has traditional looks, she is modern in design, materials, and construction methods. Roeboats have built several small boats in plywood-epoxy and seems like a better fit for this project.

There are articles, blogs, forum threads, and photo albums from around the world dedicated to the building of Cape Henrys, and I have been studying them all. There are Dudley Dix's builder's notes with many pictures from Gary Wallis' build in the UK. There's the Cape Henry Yahoo Group. A design review article from Sailing Magazine in the US. There is the review of Mehalah in issue 215 of Wooden Boat magazine and the owner's woodsmithm.com web page from Connecticut. There's the CKD Boats blog from Dudley's native South Africa, and a French blog that stops after 5 years with a half-finished boat, and an Italian article and sailing video, and a thread on a Russian boat forum, and some really good photo albums from Turkey. Each boat is slightly different, reflecting the taste of the owner, the environment where the boat will be used, how it will be used, and what's available locally to the builder. Building a boat like this gives quite a bit of flexibility since it's not being popped out of a mould and finished on a production line. Of course with that flexibility come a lot of decisions that need to be made. Everything relating to small boats is a compromise, and for someone who has always cruised on bigger boats that can be a bit of a daunting prospect.

While there's quite a bit of information available on the web, for me the mother of all resources on the Cape Henry is a series of detailed articles that were published in Water Craft Magazine. The series follows the build project of Peter Goad, their art editor, over several years. I ordered all the relevent back-issues and spent many evenings musing over the decisions he made to do certain things in a certain way. Obviously a lot of thought went into the process, and many of the choices seemed pertinent. I decided to bring a couple of the issues along to discuss with Tiernan.

Peter Goad's Cape Henry

Several of the modifications to the Water Craft boat deal with adjusting the ergonomics of cockpit and the living space down below. The Cape Henry is a scaled-up version of the Cape Cutter, and for the author some of the dimensions didn't scale well. For example, he widened the cockpit coamings to bring the seat-backs closer to the centre of the boat. This results in less of a stretch to brace one's feet against the opposite seat when heeling. It also has the benefit of giving a more comfortable seating position and one can sit more comfortably on the coamings when hiking out. On the down side, it makes the cockpit seats less suitable for sleeping on, if that is important to you. 

Down below, he wanted to increase the height of the seats, and provide proper seat backs. He wanted a cooker and sink, cool box storage, enclosed heads, and a wet locker. All very desirable features which are very difficult to fit into a twenty-one foot boat. 

He also fitted quite a bit of electrics, such as lights, fixed VHF, chart plotter, AIS receiver, and auto pilot. This is one area which really seems to divide small-boat sailors. On the one hand are those who argue for a simple to non-existant electric system, and on the other hand are those who want all the same features as the big boats. As with most things in life, I figured the truth lay somewhere in-between. But it can be difficult knowing where to draw the line. Especially since most electronic gear these days is sold with a heavy subliminal "safety" message behind it. And since we take our families and friends on our boats it's not hard to justify anything that might increase safety. 

We Google-mapped Tiernan's place, and also brought my scribbled-on-the-back-of-a-Metro-ticket directions. Head towards Ballydehob and turn right at the sign for Corravoley. His blue "Roeboats" van would be parked by the gate. We found it without too much trouble, noted the "Fáilte" sign on the gate, drove down the driveway and parked by the house. Tiernan immediately came out to greet us, accompanied by his dog Bainne. First impressions are very important to me, and I have to say they were good. He showed us around the sharpie, which he had just completed and was sitting on a trailer in front of his workshop. Laura and Bainne took an immediate liking to each other and were playing chase around our car. It was impossible to tell who was chasing who!

We went inside for tea, and looked at the Water Craft articles and pictures of boat interiors that I liked. We talked more about our sailing experience, and how we were hoping to use our boat. We talked about the build process in general, communication, cost, and payment schedules. The communication thing is very important to me as we wouldn't be around much during the build and I really hate surprises. Just ask Eileen. Tiernan reassured me that if we went ahead he would send regular email updates and we could also Skype if needed. I did get the feeling that he would take into account my wishes and allow me to have input into the process, which is also a major attraction in having a boat built as opposed to buying one "off the shelf". 

In any case, there has to be a good amount of trust when undertaking a project like this. Not only are you turning over a big wad of cash, but you are also asking someone to turn your dream into reality. It's not really about the boat, but where the boat will take you. And I'm already picturing us sailing to Cape and Glandore and Glengarriff, trailering to the Shannon, Holland, the Morbihan, the possibilities are endless. WHOA! Slow down there! We thanked Tiernan and said we would mull things over and get back to him by the end of the week. On the way home I asked Eileen what she thought and she said he made a good impression on her and she thought he would be trustworthy. I phoned him on Thursday to say we would go ahead! The start of another big adventure...

Cyprus

Cyprus is an island in the eastern Mediterranean, south of Turkey. While undoubtably a lovely place with some great sailing, we're not planning on going there. So why is this post entitled "Cyprus"? Because something happened there in early 2013 which resulted in our deciding to buy a boat.

I've often thought about buying a boat in the past. I've debated small boats, big boats, France, Ireland, Med, etc? But in the end it always seemed to make more sense to charter. Chartering gives you a virtually unlimited choice of different boats in different exotic locations, with no upkeep, no repairs, no maintenance, no mooring fees, no worries. Just step on at the beginning of your holiday, sail, then step off at the end.

Also, when visiting coastal towns I've often reflected on the boat parking lots, sorry - marinas, filled with hundreds and hundreds of white plastic blobs that never seem to go anywhere. Even on weekends with perfect weather you hardly see any empty berths. Statistics show that something like 5% of boats will be out at any one time, the other 95% sitting there bobbing up and down waiting for their owners. So I decided long ago that ownership wasn't for us, unless we moved nearer to the coast.

The Ilen River

Having said all that, the one exception is when we go to Ireland. Apart from a Drascombe Lugger, there just aren't any small boats available for charter. And while the Lugger is a fine boat and we've had some great fun sailing her, she's an open boat which offers no shelter or accommodation or basic facilities. Okay for a day trip to picnic on one of the nearby islands, but you have to be either hard core or young to do anything more adventurous in one. So that got me thinking about keeping a small boat in Ireland.

But nothing ever became of the idea. I've always been more of a saver than a spender, and it still didn't seem to make financial sense. Until the day they started talking about the banking crisis in Cyprus. The country's two biggest banks were insolvent. Accounts were frozen, people couldn't get access to their savings. Way too big to be bailed out by their government, the ECB and IMF were called in to help. Except this time nobody had the stomach for a bail out. Shareholders were going to take serious "haircuts", and depositors were going to lose money. At first they spoke of everyone having to contribute, in spite of the European bank deposit guarantee that is supposed to cover savings up to €100,000.

Eventually they backed down on that and respected the guarantee, but it really got me thinking. If they can suddenly refuse you access to your hard earned, and even knock a zero off your bank balance if they feel like it then what's the point? And besides, you really can't take it with you. Better to spend some of it on a boat!!!

So the decision was made, only what kind of boat? It had to be small enough to fit on a trailer, so we could keep it on the farm when not in use. It had to be big enough to be stable and safe and provide a minimum of comfort. I also wanted room for us to sleep on board for the odd weekend away. That's a very tall order. It also had to be easy on the eye, and I was leaning towards "plastic gaffers" like the very popular Cornish Shrimpers and Crabbers. These boats are mostly styled after the traditional nineteenth century pilot cutters and work boats of the British Isles, but are built with modern materials. A lot of thought and research led me to the Cape Cutter 19. It seemed to fit the bill perfectly, but was perhaps just a bit too small...

Cape Cutter 19

A bit more research led me to Dudley Dix, the designer of the Cape Cutter. He had also drawn plans for a slightly larger version, the Cape Henry 21. While only two feet longer, she is heavier and has 30% more volume, which means more stability, more interior headroom, more legroom, and more room for a cooker and sink.

But while the Cape Cutter is available in GRP from a commercial boatyard in the UK, the Cape Henry is not. The plans are for plywood-epoxy construction. Either home-build or find a builder to build you one. At that moment a lightbulb clicked on in my head, and I remembered a blog I had followed a year or two previously by a boat builder in West Cork who was building a 21 foot motorboat in plywood-epoxy. It was a lovely traditional looking boat. What was his name again? Didn't I save a bookmark somewhere? Got it, Tiernan Roe of Roeboats in Ballydehob.

I sent off an email to Tiernan to see if he would be interested in building a Cape Henry, if it would fit into his schedule, if it could be completed by next summer, and how much it might cost. I have to say I really like the idea of having a boat built locally to where she would be kept and sailed. Fingers crossed...

Chioggia -> Paris

Captain and First Mate

We're up at 07:00 to pack our bags and tidy things up. We have to give the boat back between 08:00 and 09:00. I assume there will be an inspection first, and some papers to sign. Food is running low, so it's tea and nutella on bread for breakfast. Then squash everything into our suitcases, wash the dishes, take out the garbage, sweep the floor. Just before 09:00 I take the suitcases and put them out on the pontoon behind the boat. 

A few minutes later a man comes and says "don't worry, this won't take long". He takes a quick look over the boat, asks if we had any problems, and mentions that we're one towel short. Eileen tells him that we didn't need the fourth towel and it's in a locker in the aft cabin. Then we sign a paper and that's it. We had taken the "pack tranquilité" which includes fuel, insurance waiver, and boat cleaning so I think that also makes for a quicker return procedure. Also the fact that we didn't break anything, lose anything, run aground, crash the boat, or sink!

We say goodbye, pick up our suitcases, and start walking across the bridge towards Sottomarina and the bus station. Thankfully the rain has stopped, and we find the station easily. I go up to the desk and ask for 3 tickets to Padova. The lady says "ok, but hurry because the bus is there and it's about to leave!". We get our tickets and run for the bus. 

The bus takes us back through Sottomarina, past the long sandy beaches, and then winds around into Chioggia from the other side. Then back out and across a very long bridge over swampy lagoon and onto the mainland. From the bridge we can see the ship that passed us as we came into Chioggia! We motor along through the countryside and once again we see many fields covered in bright red poppies. Eileen tries to take a picture with her phone, but hits the shutter button just as we pass a tree. Later we'll be wondering why she took a picture of that tree? I don't bother taking out the iPad.

Soon we arrive in Padova, and first priority is to get train tickets for Bologna. There is a train leaving in 4 minutes and we'll never make that so we get the next one which gives us an hour to kill. As we're getting our tickets (from a machine) we hear what sounds like a marching band playing. We look around, trying to see where the music is coming from, inside the station? Outside? Eventually we trace it to a group of people wearing Bavarian hats and giving an impromptu concert of oom-pa-pa music on the quay. They all have suitcases and must be returning to Germany. They've attracted quite a crowd and get a big round of applause. 

There's a nice looking café there in the station so we stop for a coffee and buy some sandwiches to take with us on the train. Laura buys a small tin of Pringles. Why do kids love every horrible manufactured sickly-sweet salty artificially flavoured plastic wrapped imitation food product, and hate anything that's natural and good for you? Seems like a strange genealogical trait. Must be advertising. I have to admit they taste pretty good though...

The train is about to arrive so we take our bags and head for the quay. This time we're in the same car, but still not seated together. We arrive in Bologna Centrale and head straight for the BLQ coach to the airport. We're just in time, a coach is waiting at the stop. I must admit I was a bit stressed out about all the bus/train/coach connections that we have to make our flight, but everything seems to be going smoothly and we should be at the airport in good time.

We arrive at the airport and the bus stops, but it's not the usual stop. There is a bit of confusion as people start getting off (including Eileen!). There is a small sign that says "East Terminal" or something like that so I tell Eileen to get back on before the door closes! Several other people get back on the bus as well. A few minutes later we arrive at the usual stop in front of the airport. There is a lot of construction work going on here, so it's a bit difficult to figure out where to go. Finally we check in ourselves (with a machine) and check in our bags (with a human). 

Bosun hard at work, and well supervised!

We've got about an hour to kill before our flight, so we want to get through security and have a look around the duty-free shop. As usual there is a huge line to go through security, and while we are queuing I remind Eileen of the time we came through here with my mom on the way back from Riccione. It was the first time she had flown since they brought in the restrictions on taking liquids on board, and she wasn't aware of them. It hadn't even occurred to me to tell her, and of course she had loads of liquids and creams in her carry-on bag. These were expensive items and there was no way she was going to leave them behind. So we had to run back to the check-in desk and check through her carry-on bag after transferring some of the stuff to a plastic bag and my backpack. Then run back to security, get rushed through and onto the plane.

I'm chuckling about that when suddenly I freeze. It just hit me that I have a bottle of limoncello in my backpack! Oh no, how could I have been so stupid! Eileen picked up this bottle to take back with us in a supermarket, and the bottle has an unusual shape with a long thin neck. I was afraid it would break in the suitcase, so I packed it carefully into my backpack. Sh!t. What do I do now?

When we get to the x-ray scanner I tell the security guy that I have a bottle of limoncello in my backpack. I show it to him, explaining that it's still sealed so it should be no problem, right? "Impossible". But, but it... "Sorry". But... "No". He tells me to put the bottle on the tray with my backpack and put it all through the scanner.

"Is this your bag?". Yes. The scanner guy says to the security guy that he sees liquids. The security guy says "Yes, there is a bottle of limoncello". The scanner guy says "No, there is something else". What are you talking about? There isn't anything else! The security guy starts rifling through my backpack and suddenly pulls out a jar of lemon marmalade. NO! Not my marmellata di limoni?!!! 

The day we arrived we went shopping for some basic groceries, and I spotted this jar of "traditional made in Italy authentic lemon marmalade" so I thought it might be interesting to try it. I liked it so much that I bought another jar to take home with us. But surely a jar of marmalade is not considered a liquid? "Sorry, you can't take it". Carp. I can either go back and check them through in my backpack, or leave them behind. Knowing they will break in my backpack, I reluctantly leave them behind. 

We head for the boarding gates, and it's not looking good when we see lots of construction work and no duty-free. There is a café so we console ourselves with a coffee. When we finish the coffee we still have a bit of time so we stroll around and suddenly we see this huge duty-free around the other side of the security area. We head over there, and they have everything: limoncello made with Amalfi lemons, marmellata di limoni, squid-ink pasta, vin santo, biscotti, salami! Woohoo! 

We arrive back in Paris, and it's a bit hard to adjust to normal life again. It doesn't feel like we were only away for a week. Feels more like a month. Eileen comes back from the bakery with a lemon cake instead of usual pain au chocolat or chausson au pomme. "Just for a change", she says. The Eurovision song contest  is on, so we watch it while sampling our vin santo and biscotti. 

Post scriptum
I'm dying to see the video from Bacino San Marco, where Eileen was driving the boat through all that crazy traffic. I take out the iPad and go straight for the video, but it's not there. Thinking I must be looking in the wrong place, I start clicking around, but I can't find it anywhere. Back to the video section, and there is just a brief one second clip showing the dashboard of the boat. I remember at the time, it was the first time I had used the iPad as a video camera and I hit the start-stop button quickly to make sure it was working. Then I hit start and videoed for a good 5 minutes. But I guess I missed the start button because the boat was bouncing around, and the video wasn't actually recording. Aaarrrggghhh!!!! 

Another lesson learnt the hard way. Practice using your new stuff before you need it for real. At least the photos I took with the iPad came out, but in general the quality is really bad compared to my old Canon digital camera. Dirty lens, wrong settings? Not sure but I'm surprised how bad they look.

Rowing in the lagoon

Looking back on our holiday, one thing really strikes me. I don't think you can appreciate just how fragile Venice is without having visited the lagoon. People didn't come to live here by choice, they came to flee the invading barbarians after the fall of the Roman Empire. They left their fertile lands to live on tiny, water-logged islands in the middle of a lagoon. That they were able to prosper and leave us the incredible heritage that is Venice today is a magnificent tribute to their ingenuity and perseverance. A World Heritage Site if ever there was one. 

Le Vignole -> Portosecco -> Chioggia

Le Vignole

Once again I'm up early, before the girls. Sitting by the open door of the boat, watching the small fish swim by in busy schools, watching seaweed floating by, listening to birds, pheasants, church bells, chickens, a cock, a peacock! I write a few notes on my phone that I'll use to make blog entries when we get home. Two men row past in a gondola.

I notice a thick black line along the wall on the opposite side of the narrow canal. I had also noticed this along the edge of the canal at San Francesco. What could it be? Skid marks left by unskilled houseboat pilots? These boats have thick, black rubber rubbing strakes along the sides. Maybe it's the high water mark? But why black? Algae? It's strange how I like getting up early on the boat. Normally I'm not a morning person at all, but these early mornings on the water are something special. 

The girls are up now, and before we go we want to take on water, so Eileen and I start by warping the boat around. The current is flowing past, so to turn the boat all we have to do is release the stern and give it a little push. The flowing water does the rest. Now that we are facing the right way, we can just drive off ahead. We pass the sailing barge and the few small hire boats moored behind it. Our hose is still too short. We need to move back a bit, but there is a mooring line in the water from one of the hire boats, and I don't want to get it stuck in our propeller. We take the rope off, slide the boat back, and finally the hose reaches our tank. But the hose keeps wanting to pull out of the intake pipe. It occurs to me that a rolling hitch would be perfect for keeping it in place the time to fill the tank. The only problem is that I can't remember how to tie a rolling hitch... But wait, I've got a knot-tying app on my phone! A few minutes later I've got the hose under control with a rolling-hitch to a stantion. We have a quick breakfast and prepare the boat to leave. We're later than planned, again.

But before we leave we want to see if we can visit the tiny church on the other side of the bridge. We walk over, taking a few pictures on the way. Actually the whole lagoon must be the most photogenic place I've ever visited. For the first time since I've had this camera (Canon PowerShot A710IS, nearly 8 years!) I've run out of space on the memory card. I actually had to delete some of the less successful photos last night, and now it's full again. I'm going to have to use the iPad to take pictures from now on. I feel a bit self-conscious. I've seen more and more people taking pictures with iPads lately, but I still think it looks stoopid! The tiny church is locked up, so we return to the boat and cast off the mooring lines. Venice, here we come again!

A Goldola crossing Bacino di San Marco

We leave the peace and quiet of our little canal and hang a right onto the Canale San Nicolo, which leads directly to Bacino di San Marco. This is the stretch of water between San Giorgio and Piazzetta San Marco. Soon we can see the Doge's Palace to the right. Traffic is getting really crazy now, with boats of every size heading in every direction. Tour boats and vaporetti are pulling in and out of quays all along the edge of San Marco. Work boats are chugging by. Water taxis are speeding past. We are the slowest thing on the water, except for a lone gondola crossing over from La Giudecca. Wow, that's bravery! 

The boat is pitching and rolling heavily as we hit the crossed and confused wakes of all the passing boats. It's utter madness. I'm trying to take pictures. Eileen is at the wheel, and to my amazement she is absolutely calm! Laura and I are keeping a lookout, calling out positions of boats passing from behind, crossing from the left and right, coming from ahead, sometimes all four at once! I hit the "Video" button on the iPad, thinking what a great video this will make.

Doge's Palace and the Piazzetta San Marco

As we proceed up the Canale della Giudecca things calm down a little. By now we've passed the entrance to the Grand Canal, and now we've got Giudecca on our left and Venice on the right. We pass by the super-yacht Space, moored up to the quay. In the distance we can see the tops of hulking cruise ships sticking up over the buildings. There is quite a controversy surrounding the presence of these cruise ships in the Lagoon and the damage they might be causing to the canals and the fragile base on which Venice rests. Not to mention the atmospheric and visual pollution. 

We come to the top of La Giudecca and circle around to the left, tucking in close to the other side of the island. This side of the island is very different, with many small shipyards at first, followed by beautiful country villas. We see the futuristic "Tender to Space" tied up. Down near the bottom of the canal we turn left and take a last tour of San Giorgio past the church of the same name, the campanile, and the marina where we had been thinking of staying. In the end we were happy with our mooring on Le Vignole so we spent a second night there instead.

Now we are heading away from Venice, the start of our journey back to Chioggia where we will spend the last night, giving the boat back first thing in the morning. Hard to believe we'll be flying out tomorrow. Today is overcast and much cooler than yesterday. Venice is receding into the cloud and mist as we head along the Canale San Spirito through a quiet and peaceful part of the lagoon. Soon all that's left are the campaniles. Eventually those disappear too. 

Laura is at the wheel now, and there is virtually no other traffic. We pass several small, mostly uninhabited islands; Isola San Clemente, San Spirito, Poveglia. There is a certain melancholic atmosphere in this part of the lagoon, especially after the adrenaline-inducing bounce up the Giudecca Canal. The realisation that our holiday is coming to an end adds a bit of sadness too.

Poveglia

There is a recommended anchorage on the other side of Poveglia, and I'm tempted to stop there for lunch. The island, like many of the islands in the lagoon was originally populated by those fleeing the barbarian invasions on the mainland. Many buildings, churches, and fortifications were built as populations grew. When these small islands became impossible to defend, the people were relocated to Venice and the islands remained mostly uninhabited. Eventually Poveglia was used as a quarantine, and then as a hospital for the mentally ill which finally closed in 1968. As we pass the southern corner of the tiny island, the bricole peter out, and we don't have a depth sounder so we chicken out. We can't afford to run aground when we have to have the boat back in Chioggia tonight.

We continue to Malamocco, and from here on we are retracing our steps from the outward journey. We decide to try to stop in Portosecco, where several moorings are indicated on the chart. We spot rings along the wall opposite bricola 53 and head in towards them. Tucking in behind some piles, we come alongside the wall. Eileen tries to lean down to thread a line through a ring but she can't reach so I take the line and hang over the wall precariously, just managing to get it through. We tie up the boat in line with the steps, get a few things together and head ashore.

Portosecco is a very small, simple fishing village with a very pretty-looking church. We wander over trying to find the entrance to the church but end up in someone's yard. Backtracking a bit we come to the church entrance but it's closed. We decide to head for the beach. It's a five minute walk from one side of the island to the other, and then up some steps and over sand dunes and we're on the Adriatic Sea. It's deserted except for a group of people sitting on one of the embankments that protrude out to sea. We walk along the beach for a while, Eileen and Laura dipping their feet in the water. The sun has come out now, and suddenly it's getting very hot. 

Beach at Portosecco

We walk on for a little while then turn around and start to head back. The sun is blistering hot now and it feels very humid. There are showers forecast for this evening, and we had planned things so that we would be back in Chioggia before then. I'm watching the sky carefully and I can see thunderclouds gathering on the horizon. I'm starting to get worried that we'll be caught in a thunder storm, so I hurry us along back to the boat.

We untie the boat and set off again along the canal towards Chioggia. We're only about half an hour away, but it has clouded over completely now and I'll be glad once we're tied up for the night. We cross the Bocca di Porto di Chioggia, looking out for ship traffic whose path we would be crossing. Off to our starboard side a small ship is approaching. I keep an eye on him, and he is steadily falling back so we'll pass safely ahead. Once across the channel, I'm surprised to see that he is turning in and coming up behind us. I wonder if it's wide enough for him to overtake here? He seems to think it is! Eileen is at the wheel and once again she is staying calm and cool as this big hulking ship slowly overtakes us.

Ship overtaking. Keep calm and carry on!

We hesitate a bit over where to go, but eventually identify the entrance to the port of Chioggia and then the canal that takes us back past the moored fishing boats and over to the familiar Rendezvous Fantasia base. At first it doesn't look like there is anywhere to park, but then we identify an empty berth near the end of the pontoons. We head up, turn, and start backing in. There is not much wind so this shouldn't be too difficult. Laura is watching the stern, and she warns me that I'm going to hit the mooring pile to port. I give it a little blast of ahead and the stern moves over to starboard. Back into reverse and we slowly slide between the piles towards the pontoon. Someone from RVF is there to take our stern lines, and soon we are moored up safely. Wooohoo! I get a great rush of relief and pride all at once. I'm relieved that we made it back safely, we didn't break anything, and nobody got hurt. I'm also immensely proud of my crew who were brilliant through it all! 

After spending a week in a watery, boaty universe it feels strange and somehow unpleasant to see cars, buses, and all this road traffic. It's early evening so we should still have some time to see more of Chioggia before getting something to eat. Chioggia is not flooded with tourists who all disappear at sunset, so it's quite busy and animated on a Friday evening. Along with the cars and scooters it's also surrounded by canals and boats, so it makes for a gentler transition from our water world back to dry land. 

We walk the length of the main street, Corso del Popolo, visiting churches along the way. We walk out to the lagoon end of the street and there is a vaporetto stop with boats going to Venice. Very tempting, I could probably find the shop with the glass squids but they would almost certainly be closed, so I give up on the idea. Eileen is intent on going back to the same restaurant where we ate the first day, El Fontego. Large, heavy rain drops are starting to fall as we arrive, and waiters and customers are rushing to move inside off the terrace. 

Good choice of wine! My cheeks hurt...

We are seated quickly, inside also this time. I'm feeling adventurous and in a mood to celebrate so I order the "big gnocchi" starter followed by calamaretti for the main course. I choose a wine, and the waiter makes a sour face and shakes his head disapprovingly. He comes back a few minutes later to say that he is sorry but my wine choice is not available. He suggests another and I accept. Several minutes later the waiter and proprietor come to the table looking very serious. The proprietor apologizes profusely that the wine suggested by the waiter is not available, but in any case he would recommend a different wine anyway and is sure that I'll be happier with this recommendation. I think it was my choice of red wine with fish that threw them off. They weren't going for it though, and I had no choice but to accept the white. And a good choice it was, too!

We're all feeling relaxed and quite relieved and our holiday is coming to an end, so we are really enjoying ourselves. The wine probably contributed something too! Laura is making a serious face, and it makes me break out in laughter. I'm trying to get the waiter's attention with the Irish finger wave. It doesn't work. Every once in a while the table sways back and forth, as if from the wake of a passing boat. Laura has to hold her cheeks cause they hurt from laughing so much! Eileen finally manages to get the waiter, we pay and head off in search of gelato. It's pelting rain, with thunder and lightening in the distance. Earlier on we had scouted out all the gelaterie, and there is one across the way that stays open til midnight. We eat our cones while sheltering under the arcade, strolling along and window shopping. When we're finished our ice-creams we hurry back to the boat in the rain, jumping over puddles. Sleep comes easily.


Log Entry for Friday 10 May 2013:
From: Le Vignole (depart 11:00) Towards: Chioggia (arrive 17:45) via Portosecco (arrive 15:15, depart 16:15)

Tides
▲ 1220 0.8m
▼ 1710 0.4m
▲ 2305 0.9m
▼ 0600 0.0m

Baro: 1011.5 hPa
Wind: 3 kn gusting to 10 kn
Temps: Low 16° High 20°
Rel humidity: 83%
Forecast partly sunny AM, then mostly cloudy. 65% chance of showers from 17:00. 90% chance of showers from 20:00

Engine hours: 554.5 - 559.9
Water: 3/8 -> 4/4 (filled up in Vignole)
Battery (12V): 12.5
Battery (24V): 25

Venice

Venice here we come!

I'm awoken by the most beautiful bird song. Not sure what kind of bird it is, but it has the most amazing and varied song. Even out-doing the resident blackbird in our courtyard in Paris. Eileen is still sleeping, so I just lie there listening for a while. Eventually I get up and sit on the step in the saloon, with the sliding door open onto the canal. There are rings spreading out all over the surface of the water, made by feeding fish. I hear a sploop and when I look up I see a fish completely out of the water, falling back in with a louder splash. 

A few moments later I hear a splish ... splish ... splish, then two men slide by on a gondola, one at each end, standing up facing forward and pushing their single oars ahead in synchronised strokes. We have seen lots of these around, one, two, and four person boats being rowed around in the early morning or sometimes in the evening. These are simple boats, not the usual black lacquered and velvet upholstered jobs. Practicing for an upcoming regatta? 

We want to fill up our water tank, so we take out the hose and stretch it fully towards the tap but it's too short. I thought we might have been blocking access to the tap, but nobody would be able to get water from here. It's too far. We decide to leave the water until tomorrow morning when we leave. We'll shift the boat back behind the sailing barge, fill up with water, then leave. 

The sailing barge doesn't look like it's moved for a while. Maybe they are here for the summer? There are two small barky dogs flopped on deck, but no sign of humans. There is also a dog that looks a bit like Josh in the field next to the path. Every once in a while the boat dogs bark at the field dog, or vice-versa, but they invariably co-operate to gang up on any dogs and their masters walking along the path. 

We have breakfast and start getting our gear together for a day out in Venice.  We check the vaporetto times and decide it's too late to make the 09:07 one so we'll aim for the 10:07. This is it, the big day! Everything has been building in a crescendo towards this day. We started in the far-off remote southern end of the lagoon, with its quiet fishing villages, wild beaches, and lack of tourism. We came to visit bigger and more urban islands, with increasing traffic, tourists, shops, restaurants, museums, and hustle-and-bustle. From Michelin one-star "worth visiting" to two-star "worth a detour" to three-star monuments that are "worth a voyage". Today is going to be the grande finale of sights, sounds, smells, crowds. La Serenissima! The forecast is for sunshine and a high of 25°C so it should be a great day!

Gondolas are poetry in motion

We arrive at the vaporetto stop a few minutes early, and it's right on time as usual. From Le Vignole, the 13 line goes directly to Murano Faro, then on to Venice Fondamente Nove. We only have one day to spend in Venice, so it's going to be difficult to see everything I want to see. 

In fact it would be impossible to see even a fraction of the sights in just one day. But I'm relaxed about it and just want to enjoy the day and whatever we end up seeing. Venice is the kind of place where you can just walk around and enjoy the atmosphere, with surprising and beautiful views around every corner. And these days I'm more into quality than quantity. Better to see a few of the sights and have taken some time to really enjoy the experience, than to run from place to place snapping pictures on the fly. The only "must do" item on my list is Saint Mark's Basilica. Everything else is a bonus.

We start off by visiting the Church of Santa Maria Assunta, better known as I Gesuiti. The interior of this church is notable especially for the green and white geometrical patterns on the walls, which appear to be of tapestry or fabric. Many of the decorative elements of the interior appear to be flowing velvety curtains or rugs or tapestry but on closer inspection turn out to be solid marble. We stroll slowly through the church, light some candles, and sit for a few minutes to rest and reflect. We are still a bit tired from our busy day yesterday. We leave the church and head out down towards the Grand Canal. The plan had been to visit Ca' d'Oro next, but we just don't have the energy so we'll head straight for the Rialto bridge and Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari on the other side of the Grand Canal. 

Traffic jam on a narrow rio

Actually it's impossible to head "straight to" anywhere in Venice. It's like a maze. The neighborhood we're in is not quite as touristy as the San Marco area, and it's very enjoyable to wind your way along the tiny streets, along the edges of winding canals (these small ones are known as rii, plural of rio), over bridges, across campi (squares), around churches. Everywhere you look there is something interesting, unusual, out of the ordinary. The sunlight filtering through adds to the pleasant atmosphere. At the same time it's hard work keeping track of where you are and where you are going, but I keep telling myself that getting lost is part of the fun. We've been walking a while and spot a café with tables on a small square so we decide to stop and have a coffee. Laura has a gelato (of course!). We sit for a while just relaxing and watching people go by while we rest our weary feet.

Time to get going again. Navigating is not easy because the maps in my guide book are not very detailed. They only show the names of the major calle so there is a fair bit of guesswork involved. We head off again in search of the Rialto Bridge. The decrepit state of many of the buildings is quite a contrast to the manicured perfection of old buildings in Paris. Much of Italy is like this, and I guess it's also part of the charm. A bit like an old well-worn piece of clothing or furniture that just feels so comfortable. But at the same time it makes me wonder if it's all just going to come crumbling down one day from a lack of maintenance! After a while we pass a nice looking little restaurant with an empty table on the street and three empty chairs. Surely this must be a sign! The temptation is just too great and after a quick look at the menu we stop for lunch. After a very nice lunch of panini-like things we are on the move again.

Shop 'til you drop!

After some dead-ends and backtracking we're nearly there. We emerge onto a tiny street and I can see the Grand Canal up ahead and the Rialto Bridge should be just off to the left. But before we get any farther I'm sidetracked into a small Venetian glass and jewelry shop by Eileen and Laura. It's packed with glass dishes, ashtrays, lamps, picture frames, and vases. They also have a lot of glass-bead jewelry including earrings and bracelets. 

Many of the glass shops don't have any silver or gold jewelry and we want silver earrings for Laura so they won't bother her ears. This shop has silver, but the earrings are too big and heavy for Laura. Eileen finds a silver and bead bracelet she likes, and spends a lot of time with the shop assistant choosing the colour of beads that will make up the bracelet. You can custom-make your own bracelet by threading coloured doughnut-shaped Murano beads and Swarovski crystal onto a silver chain. The beads can also be threaded onto earrings. Quite a neat system really. Laura decides she'd like one too, and the shop assistant shows us a version suitable for young girls. Soon the whole counter is covered with coloured glass beads.

Rialto Bridge

I finally manage to drag them away from the shop, up to the end of the street and there it is, the Rialto Bridge! Right where it's supposed to be! We head towards it, but not so fast. Before I can even step onto the bridge Eileen and Laura have spotted another shop, this one only has jewelry, a very large selection of glass necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Laura finds a suitable pair of earrings at last! Eileen manages to find herself a nice pair too. Well, that's a couple of birthday presents sorted for this year! Yeah right, I'll never get away with that...

Now we climb the steps up the side of the bridge and admire the views over the Grand Canal. But wait, Laura wants to put her earrings on, now! Okay, put them on then... We continue down the other side of the bridge and as we pass a shop I notice a display case with various pieces of glass sculpture. Then I spot three small glass squids, wow, too cool! Hmm, €350 each, not so cool. I'm still loitering by the squids, but the girls have gone on ahead and are calling me to come on.

Now we've been walking a while and I'm not sure where we are anymore. It's not that we're lost, I'm just not sure where we are! There are signs for the train station, but we shouldn't be anywhere near the station. I see a workman standing near an open trench. I go over and ask him how to get to I Frari. He speaks quickly in Italian, and I'm struggling to keep up. "Ah, how to get to I Frari from here. Easy to do but not easy to explain! To start with, you're in the wrong neighborhood!" He tells us to head over there, then go left then right at the corner of the church then follow the calle straight over two bridges then you will come to I Frari. I keep repeating this to myself as we walk along, "left, right at church, straight, two bridges". We pass a gelateria and just have to stop. "Left, right at -lick- church, straight, -lick- two -lick- bridges".

View of the Grand Canal from Rialto Bridge

We find it at last. The directions were spot on! We find the entrance and pay the €3 each (children are free) entrance fee. This is a massive church, with many extraordinary paintings, tombs and monuments, including the pyramidal tomb of the sculptor Canova, monuments of Doge Giovanni Pesaro, the composer Montiverdi, and Paolo Savelli on a horse! The row of chapels is also quite unusual. We sit for a while to contemplate. And rest our weary feet! We visit the sacristy which has a sign at the entrance saying "No photography" and a number of interesting art works. There's a woman walking around taking pictures of everything. The painting above the door of a freshly beheaded John the Baptist freaks out Laura.

After I Frari I had been planning on visiting Ca' Rezzonico, a magnificent Palazzo completed in the 1750s and now a museum that houses a collection of art, furniture, and glass recuperated from other Venetian Palazzi. But I can tell we are too tired and scratch it off the list. We'll just head straight (ha!) for Piazza San Marco instead. To get there, we need to cross the Grand Canal again and that means finding the Accademia Bridge. Would have been nice to visit the Accademia too, maybe next time...

Like the Rialto Bridge, the Accademia Bridge also opens up magnificent views over the Grand Canal. We linger a while watching boats pass by and marveling at the Palazzi lining the canal. Down the other side, and by now my feet feel like pieces of squid. There are signs for Piazza San Marco, which is a good thing because I'm too tired to read a map. Streams of people are flowing towards San Marco. We join the flow. By now we're starting to suffer from visual overload. Lethargy is starting to set in. Maybe the heat is getting to me? Buck up, we're not finished yet! The best is still to come.

Piazza San Marco

We arrive at a narrow street that leads suddenly to the huge square that opens out onto Saint Mark's Basilica in the distance, its towering campanile to the right, the clock tower to the left, both sides flanked by the long arcades of the Procuratie Vecchie and Procuratie Nuove. In the right corner you can just make out the end of the Doge's Palace. We stroll through the square, taking it all in. Saint Mark's is drawing us forward like a magnet. We arrive at the door and for some reason it's closed. Where's the entrance? Did they change it? Then the immense deception hits as we read the opening hours on the sign. Closed. We're too late! I'm stunned, crushed, gutted...

We console ourselves by admiring the clock tower, the Byzantine facade of the Cathedral, the four bronze horses that were such a strong symbol of the independence and power of the Venetian Republic. We sit on a bench in the arcade of the Doge's Palace. Across from us, the campanile is still open and there's a long queue at the entrance. We're tempted, but the idea of having to stand in a queue plus the possibility of there not being a lift and having to climb steps puts us off. We just sit and rest and take it all in. I'm a bit disappointed that the grande finale is ending with a fizzle, but like so many things in life this has really been about the journey and not the destination. And it's been a fabulous journey. And it's not finished yet. We still have tomorrow when we are planning to take the boat up the Giudecca Canal past San Giorgio Maggiore and the Piazzetta di San Marco. Right past the Doge's Palace!

Looking out across the Bacino San Marco

We wander over to the edge of the water and look out across the Bacino San Marco to San Giorgio. I clearly remember standing here maybe 30 years ago and thinking how great it would be to be able to get on a boat and head off and explore the canals and islands beyond Venice. It's getting late now and we have to think about dinner and getting the vaporetto back home. We decide to head in the direction of the vaporetto stop and try to find a restaurant over there, as it is a bit less touristy than San Marco. We pass the Bridge of Sighs, which gave convicts their last glimpse of Venice before being lead to their prison cells. If I'm sighing, it's only because of my murdered feet!

We continue in the general direction of Fondamente Nove. A quick check of the Michelin Guide shows the two-star Church of San Giovanni and San Paolo somewhere between here and there. We try to find it but have to backtrack a few times. Eileen wants to find a grocery store to get some bread for tomorrow's breakfast. The only shop we see that doesn't sell either carnival masks or Murano glass is a health-food store. Eileen comes out with a bag of gluten-free buns. Yuck. Shortly after that we start seeing loads of people with Co-op bags full of groceries. We head in the opposite direction of one person, but don't find the Co-op. We see more people coming up another street and I head down that one to check while Eileen and Laura wait on the steps of a bridge. Pass an Irish pub, and then find the source of the Co-op bagged shoppers. Eileen agrees to go get a few groceries while Laura and I wait on the bridge steps. 

Laura spots a tiny take-away pizza joint next to the bridge. It's doing a steady trade, and Laura likes the look of the pizzas in the window. Eileen returns with the grocs, and we agree that if there is a place to sit we'll eat there. There is and we do. They sell pizza slices and charge by the size of the slice, however big you want. It's very good. Eileen is feeling a bit homesick and goes for the spud pizza. I can imagine that one being quite popular at pub closing time! We wash it down with Italian beers. Feeling slightly refreshed, we head off in search of San Giovanni e Paolo. But first things first, we can't pass that gelateria! We eventually find the church but guess what, it is closed! Another one on the list for next time. Boy, next time is going to be awfully busy... 

Bridge of Sighs

We come to Fondamente Nove and we've half an hour to kill before our boat. We verify the stop and the time of the boat, then sit at a café/bar by the water's edge. After waiting for a while, a waiter comes and tells us the place is closing, we're too late! There's definitely a pattern here. Only problem is that Laura is dying to use the toilet. Eileen asks and they refuse! A bit of heated discussion follows but they don't give in. Shame on you. We walk over to another place, a bar/restaurant that looks lovely, and quite posh. We sit at a table outside and I tell Eileen to just go and take Laura to the loo. I'll order us a drink. They head for the loo, pretending to be customers. Meanwhile waiters rush in and rush out, and back and forth past the table, but they never slow down enough to realize that we are there. In any case it's nearly time to catch our boat so we just get up and leave. Next time we'll come for dinner, I promise.

We catch our vaporetto home in the dark. There is a lone driver who also acts as conductor and also handles his own mooring lines! We cross the little bridge on Le Vignole and there are more late-night fishermen with flashlights. Again we feel our way along the path back to the boat. Forgot the flashlight again. We have a cookie and a drink before turning in. Glad to be home. What a day! An unlit boat passes in the dark. Those Marines again? Fishermen? Bed. Sleep.


Log Entry for Thursday 9 May 2013:
In Port (Le Vignole)

Tides
▲ 1145 0.8m
▼ 1700 0.3m
▲ 2300 1.0m
▼ 0550 0.0m

Baro: 1015.1 hPa
Wind: 3 kn gusting to 9 kn
Temps: Low 14° High 25°
Forecast sunny, dry

Engine hours: 554.5
Water: 1/2
Battery (12V): 12.5
Battery (24V): 25