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| San Francesco del Deserto Friary |
The others are taking it easy while I rush to finish breakfast and get over to the entrance gate. At 09:00 sharp I'm the only one standing at the entrance, hoping for one of the doors to open. I don't want them to peek out and not see anyone and go back to bed. More fishermen come and go. This must be a good spot. Still no friars though, and no other visitors either. It's about a quarter past nine now. Eileen and Laura finally arrive. We look down a path off to the left thinking maybe the entrance is down there, but it's just for the toilets, which are closed. I notice a bell on the wall and I'm about to ring it when I see a buzzer marked "Frati minori" by one of the doors. I press it. A loud and long bell rings out. After a few minutes we hear some shuffling noises and other signs of life behind the door. Finally a door opens.
A Franciscan friar comes out to greet us. In Italian of course. He says that unfortunately he doesn't speak English or French, but we can walk around ourselves with a brochure that describes the visit. We say we understand a bit of Italian, and he says in that case he will give us the tour. He takes his time explaining the history of the place, speaking very slowly so that we can understand. He says there are currently six full-time residents of the friary. They also take people for retreats.
He is extremely kind and friendly, explaining a bit of the history, answering our questions in broken Italian, then allowing us to observe and contemplate at our own pace. The whole place radiates peace and tranquillity. We visit the interior parts that are open to the public; a cloister, small church, chapels. He shows us the foundations of the original buildings on the site going back to the time of Saint Francis. Then he invites us to visit the grounds on our own. A section of it is open to the public, and so we wander around slowly. The grounds are made up of beautifully manicured lawns, trees, flowers, and the odd bit of modern religious art.
The island is visible from a distance and easily identifiable by the large number of trees which are home to many birds. They are singing loudly. We think about the miracle of Saint Francis silencing the birds during mass. There are incredible views over the lagoon to Burano. By the end I have such a feeling of zen that I don't want to leave. Thank you to the kind friar that welcomed us and shared a little bit of this incredible, peaceful, spiritual place.
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| Carved briccole in the gardens |
I seem to remember being shown a wrench during handover of the boat, so I go looking for it. There is a wrench for changing the gas bottle, but it's not going to fit the tap. I think about how embarrassed I'm going to be if I have to go and ask the friars to borrow a wrench to loosen our hose pipe. How do you say "wrench" in Italian? Eileen brings a towel to help get a better grip and eventually I'm able to loosen it. We still have half a tank so we give up on the water and head for Torcello. As we pull away from the quay, bells start ringing out. A personal send off? Nope, lunch time at the friary.
On the way towards Torcello, we are hit by clouds of bugs. Fortunately not of a biting variety, but annoying none the less. There is one lady bug among them. Laura takes it on her finger, then he doesn't want to let go. She can't get rid of it. We're trying to find Canale Sant' Antonio. It's not where it should be. We're lost. We turn around and head back down Canale di Burano. Maybe we missed it. Hmm, that boatyard shouldn't be there. After lots of head-scratching I realize that when we came out of S Francesco we took a left and a left when we should have taken a left and a right. In areas with shallows and vast drying areas, nothing on a nautical chart looks like it does in real life. Islands tend to look very similar. It can be very disorienting.
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| Church of Santa Fosca, Torcello |
We're not exactly sure where the moorings will be, when we spot a series of pile moorings right beside the Cathedral. There are no other boats moored there, but there is no sign saying you can't moor so we decide to go for it. There is a large group of children playing noisily in the field. At first I thought it might be a school ground, but they are probably taking a break from a field trip.
The cross-current here is very strong, and it's difficult to get lined up properly for the mooring that I want. We have to try several times. It's the only one that has a pile far enough from the quay to be remotely suitable for us. In fact it's not really out far enough, these moorings were probably designed for smaller boats. We tie up as best we can, but I'm not happy because if/when the tide turns it will push the boat off that pile into the corner of a wooden jetty on the other side. We are short one line that would allow us to tie the bow off to prevent this. Why do charter boats never have a bit of extra rope? Anyway, we won't be staying more than a few hours and the tide shouldn't turn before then.
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| Ponte del Diavolo, Torcello |
We visit the Cathedral, which has some incredible mosaics, and an absolutely fabulous marble floor. We also visit the neighboring church of Santa Fosca. Hard to believe that Torcello once had a population of over 10,000 and was more powerful than Venice. Today it is a quiet place with a few houses and a couple of trattorias. Like many of the islands in the lagoon, it was abandoned at some stage due to malaria, the inhabitants moving to Venice and taking their building materials with them. All that survives of the former glory is the Cathedral.
We slip our mooring and head for Burano, where we will spend the night. There is a lot of boat traffic circling the island. The closer we get to Venice the denser the traffic gets. We find the RVF moorings just above the bridge between Mazzorbo and Burano, on the Mazzorbo side. There is only one other boat moored there so it should not be too difficult. We u-turn just before the bridge and come up to a mooring pile. Eileen struggles a bit to lasso the pile, but gets it eventually.
We spend a bit of time shifting the boat, adjusting warps so that the gate at our bow lines up with a little wooden jetty. I take a line forward from the bow, wrap it around the pile, then go to make a bowline. For some reason I hesitate, feeling like something is not quite right. I finally figure out that I've always practiced making bowlines around piles by taking the line counter-clockwise around the pile, then tying off. Here I've gone clockwise around the pile and it doesn't feel right. I take the line the other way around the pile and tie it off. Must practice tying knots in both directions from now on!
Turn off the engine and chill a bit. Laura watches crabs off the stern. We walk across the wooden footbridge to Burano. We stop along the way to watch a school of small fish feeding among the seaweed at the water's edge. Every so often there is a bright camera-flash of sunlight reflecting off a silvery underbelly as the fish twist and turn in the water.
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| Burano's cheerful houses |
Burano is famous for its lace-making, and we head for the lace museum but it's about to close. The lace shops are also closing. Laura is annoyed because she wants to look for earrings. We promise her that she will be able to look for earrings tomorrow in Murano.
We wander down a bit looking for a place to have dinner. Laura wants to go back to Caffè Vecchio, a place we saw near the church. We go back to look at the menu and it seems okay, so we sit at a table outside. The only outside tables left are exposed to the wind and it's cooling off quickly as the sun begins to set, so with the encouragement of the waiter we move inside. There is only one person eating inside, and she turns out to be the tour guide for the group of people who are filling up all the tables outside.
It wouldn't be right to come here without trying some of the local specialities. So far we have been in remote places and made dinner on the boat, but from now on we will be in larger towns with good selections of restaurants. Almost all of them specialize in seafood. You actually have to go looking for the usual Italian pasta and meat dishes which are not native to this part of Italy. I want to try squid ink spaghetti, but they require a minimum of two orders. I manage to convince Eileen to try it so we both order it as a starter. It's delicious. There are chunks of squid (actually cuttlefish) cooked in it's own ink, with a delicate fishy taste and not at all rubbery texture. For the main course I have sole and Eileen has branzino (sea bass), also very good. Laura has spaghetti al ragù. Eileen asks if she can charge her phone, and they point her to the nearest plug. For desert we ask for gelato but they don't have any. We order frozen ice-cream deserts (semifreddo) which are not quite as satisfying as a good gelato, but the limoncello makes up for it.
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| Spaghetti al nero di sepia |
We stroll back to the boat, have a few quick games of Go Fish, then head for the bed. It's a relatively calm mooring, but the occasional yobbo blasts by shaking us up in his wake. It was a busy day, and tiredness quickly overcomes all resistance.
Log Entry for Tuesday 7 May 2013:
From: S. Francesco del Deserto (depart 12:00) Towards: Mazzorbo (arrive 17:00) via Torcello (arrive 14:00, depart 16:00)
Tides
▲ 1035 0.7m
▼ 1555 0.3m
▲ 2210 1.0m
▼ 0455 0.0m
Baro: 1015 hPa
Wind: 5 kn gusting to 9 kn
Temps: Low 14° High 20°
Forecast: partly cloudy, dry
Engine hours: 548.9 - 552.6
Water: 5/8
Battery (12V): 12.5
Battery (24V): 25
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