Ancona

The last time I was here was in 1983, I was with Phil Hayman then too. We caught a ship from here to Alexandria on our way to Capetown by motor bike with Pete Sutcliffe, Pam Rosengren and Les Walker. Arriving here by catamaran some 34 years later in the middle of another adventure brought a smile to our faces.

Google Meiser Al got us the ungettable spot in the harbour. The choices were the marina, miles out of town, the commercial port where we could not leave the boat in case we’d have to move and then there was the yacht club situated around a building which was built for the pope and became a quarantine station. It is close to the action and outdoor bars with live music and a short walk to the old town and my favoured piazza’s.

Al managed to track down the owner of a tiny restaurant on the periphery of the wall nestled in a small gap on the water. I called him and he said just come on in and he’d find us a spot. So we did and he was true to his word. 

A very different mooring right in the very inner harbour among commercial fishing boats, an odd assortment of small craft and yachts parked bow to shore. Once again they were not used to seeing a catamaran, or a foreigner and we were most welcome.

Not long after we moored, the smiling face of Greg Fraser appeared at the dock and in no time it all started to get out of hand. A few drinks on the boat a couple of rounds of cards until the day cooled, spruced up and as Greg had already been in Ancona for a day or so we followed him into the old town for dinner.

This is the before shot of Gregory.

It was midnight before we left the restaurant and started to make our way back to the boat. Unfortunately we had to walk right through the dancing crowd at an outdoor bar which proved an impenetrable barrier for everybody but me. I was totalled and just had to go sleep but Erwin had to get me to the boat as I had no idea where we were or where the boat was. 

We found that all the entry gates were locked but a restaurant just closing had a window that accessed the gangway to our boat. They allowed us to use their window and once Erwin had got me safely home he went back to the bar chocking the gate as he exited. I was followed by Phil and Al shortly thereafter. At around 4:00am it was time for Erwin to get Greg home without falling off the gang planking into the putrid harbour water. Once Greg was safely on the boat, Erwin went back to the bar!

Greg was accommodated in the Captains cabin. A small single bed in the Port Bow accessible through a deck hatch. 

Close by that hatch is the foot well for the outside front seating. Phil was woken by a loud bang. He stood on his bed and stuck his head out of his hatch to see a pair of feet sticking out of the foot well. That was Greg’s third fall for the evening. 

Late breakfast and Greg came hobbling to the cockpit, bashed and bruised and sporting a very saw hip and a look of “What the!” and a few scrapes on his face…. 

This is the morning after shot. Greg declaring "that was a great start, at least I have 10 days to recover!"  Dream on buddy...

Erwin got home at sunup. 

A very slow day. A quiet evening meal back at the piazza. Greg and I stopped at the bar for a couple and a dance but it wasn’t long before the entire boat was tucked up and gone for the night.

At 8:00 on Sunday the 30^th I was woken by Phil. He was leaving to fly home. We were very sad to see him go but at least Greg gets a double cabin. Fly safe Phil. Catch you in Sydney.