Wed 5 Sep and Thu 6 Sep – Capraia

It’s been a while since we’ve been anchored in clear blue water. OK, a “while” is only about 9 days but we were were really looking forward to a swim. Once in the water however we noticed we were not alone. Floating all around us were little pink jellyfish who’d been blown downwind into the bay. They didn’t look too menacing but we didn’t fancy chancing it so made a hasty exit (after taking a few photos). It’s a common phenomenon in the Med, we had swathes arrive in Barcelona and chatting to my Dad, he has the same in Andalusia.

In the afternoon we went ashore for a walk. We parked the dinghy alongside a small beach and took the zig-zag path up to the castle. The village itself is tiny (home to just 400 people) and this is the only populated area of the 19,000km2 island with the rest being woodland, hills and goats. It took us just a few minutes to walk through the deserted, meandering passageways and out onto a footpath which lead around the coast. We walked for about 40 minutes then headed back to the dinghy and motored around to check out the marina.

We were surprised to find it was actually pretty big, well, long is a more accurate description. Set along a 200m cul-de-sac street lined with a few bars, restaurants and fishing folk going about their business, it caters for about 30 yachts. The boats were all lined up, stern-to with their crew sat in the cockpits chatting about the days sail over a sundowner whilst watching the world go by. They’re my favourite marinas these ones, they make fur such a nice atmosphere. We found a great bar and had a couple drinks, then on our way back Tom noticed a chandler with one of our types of gas bottles propping open the door. Perhaps they’d exchange ours then! Excited we went in and to our surprise the guy said yes, come back tomorrow at 17:00! We had planned to leave for Elba in the morning, but the prospect of getting rid of these contraband bottles made it worth staying another day.

We had restless night and woke at 03:00 to the sound of stuff sliding around in the cabin; the swell had started rolling in. After a few hours it subsided so we caught a bit more sleep. After breakfast we upped anchor and moved Bini to the bay just outside the marina. It’s more protected in here so we’re hoping to get a better night’s sleep this evening.

We swam, read and worked a bit for the remainder of the morning then it was time for the task which could no longer be postponed. It was time for me to cut Tom’s hair.

I’d blithely said before we left that of course I’d cut his hair, but to be honest I wasn’t sure Tom would actually be brave enough to let me have a go. Turns out he was, so armed with our brand new hair clipping set, and Tom sitting on the cockpit floor, I set to work. It was like a scene from Edward Sissorhands, with me randomly chopping into his grey locks. As the YouTube video suggested I tried to cut one piece then use that as a guide, but thanks to the wind, a rocking boat and my shaking hands within seconds it had vanished. I persevered for the next hour swearing, whilst Tom offered kind words of encouragement until finally it was as good as it was going to get. It was then I noticed the horror I’d created at the back. To say there was a huge step was a massive understatement. It was a text-book pudding bowl hair cut. Craaaap! With more luck than judgement I somehow managed to level it off to something a bit more respectable. It would have to do otherwise with constant tweaking the poor man would soon be bald.

The cockpit by now looked like we’d sheered a sheep in it so took some serious sweeping to get most of the hair over the side. At 18:00 we set off to the marina to have a much needed drink, and to try to exchange the gas bottles. The drink was easy. The bottles were not. We hadn’t made it within 50ft of the counter when the lady started shaking her head. Our Italian isn’t good but we could easily make out the words “not Camping Gaz”. Oh well, we’ll have to try again in Rome.