September 16 , 2001 Gaeta, Italy September 3 , 2001 Stromboli: The Lighthouse Of The Mediterranean August 26 , 2001 Cefalu: Another Medieval Jewel August 23 , 2001 Sicily: Land of Lovely Desserts August 15 , 2001 En Route to North Africa August 10 , 2001 Ormeggiatori August 8, 2001 Supermarkets and Amphora August 6 , 2001 Sailing South in Sardinia August 2 , 2001 La Vie en Corsica July 30, 2001 Jonathan Joins Us July 27, 2001 One Sea, Seven Colors July 24, 2001 Say What? July 23, 2001 "Va Bene" July 21, 2001 Venturing Into Italy July 20, 2001 And The Mistral Blew July 18, 2001 The Spell Of Menorca July 12, 2001 Culture And Concerts July 7, 2001 Cha Chas July 6, 2001 Red Dust July 4, 2001 Rare Birds July 3, 2001 Clear Empty Water June 27 , 2001 Quick Friends June 22 , 2001 Reconnecting June 13, 2001 Eastern Hemisphere June 6, 2001 A Weekend in Cartegena May 30 , 2001 A Time Or A Place May 29 , 2001 Several Lovely Sails May 21 , 2001 Free At Last May 25, 2001 On The Hard May 18, 2001 A Boat Again May 14, 2001 Time Warp to Morocco May 03, 2001 Still On Stilts in Malaga

 August 26, 2001 

Midway along the north coast of Sicily sits Cefalu, a medieval picturesque fishing village that juts into the sea under the shadow of a precipitous conical hill of rock, 822 ft high. The cathedral, a wonderful example of Norman architecture, was begun in 1131. The timelines in Europe still boggle my American mind! We were able to anchor off the small recreational harbor and settled in to enjoy the delightful 'old' town and to do some serious route planning and work on DOVKA.

People often think our life is one big vacation, which it may be, but in fact, we rarely 'lounge around.' While in Cefalu, we did swim alot in the clear, warm water of the outer harbor, but it was to cool off in between varnishing teak, changing the oil, and scrubbing the topsides. When in the water, we scrubbed the grass that was growing on the waterline and the growth on the through-hull fittings.

Early on our third morning in Cefalu, we decided it was time to move on so we rushed ashore to see the remaining tourist sights and do final provisioning. By the time we departed at 1 pm, we had climbed to the fort on the mountain overlooking the town, toured the museum and the cathedral, provisioned and fuelled the boat. Included in this final burst, we did find time to sit in the Piazza for one last granita and cannoli.

I guess its no wonder we breathed a sigh of relief as we put on the autopilot and set a course for the Lipari Islands. In fact, there is an interesting phenomenon: when in a place (if it is comfortable and appealing) it often seems hard to leave, but as soon as we do decide to leave, we are ready to go, pyschologically, right then. The next adventure lies ahead. The lure of the next port whets one's interest. And 'getting there IS half the fun.' No planes, buses or trains, nobody else's timetables or schedules with which to deal. It is between us and the weather. During the travel time we are in our own home and in our own little world. A passage is like a sip of wine between bites of food.