I’ve recently returned
from a week on a houseboat/trawler in Venice. One might consider the equipment
list interesting. For instance:
- ·
There was no compass.
- ·
There was no depth sounder.
- ·
There was no VHF.
- ·
There was no fuel gauge.
- ·
There was no generator.
- ·
The refrigerator was 12 volt - the main engine had to
be run a minimum of 4 hrs/day to keep the batteries up.
- ·
There were two, ½” well-worn poly mooring lines (and
one spare somewhere we were told).
- ·
There was one anchor, but we were told not to use it -
no windlass.
- ·
There were 3 massive rubber rub rails around the entire
boat, inlaid with stainless, and there were also diagonal ‘bumpers’ (of the
same construction) at the bow from the upper rub rail to the waterline, and
another at the stem.
- ·
The boat had a sunroof over the main cabin, which slid
back into the top so the main cabin was open to the outside air from above.
- ·
There was no drive shaft on the end of the 40HP diesel
- hydraulic drive. The boat had been
retrofitted with this smaller diesel - we were told it was because a license
was required to operate a boat with a motor over 40 HP. She once hit 7 mph
according to my GPS.
- ·
There WAS a bow thruster, probably because it was a
necessity. It was also hydraulic.
- ·
There was a box under a berth at the stern that was
open to the sea below and extended up above the waterline; it had a watertight
lid fastened on with wing nuts. One could remove the top of the box and reach
down through it into the water to clear a tangled prop without leaving the
boat. I know because I watched the fellow from the agency pull a 20’ fishing
net up through the box that had fouled the prop just after we untied the boat
for our ‘instructional’ cruise.
On Wednesday September 6th,
we flew from our local airport in Spartanburg to Washington Dulles. We arrived
in time to be waiting at the gate when my sister Natalie and her husband George
arrived from Hawaii. From there, the four of us went nonstop to London. From
the air, London was a huge expanse of
regularly spaced buildings and it was so much bigger than I expected. We
spent Thursday night in town; toured the next day -- Kensington Gardens, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Westminster
Abbey, Houses of Parliament, museums... Yes there’s a lot of history,
architecture and pomp, but has anyone been to Harrods? Took a river cruise:
Cleopatra’s Needle, St Pauls, London Bridge (#3), Tower of London, but
Greenwich was perhaps the most memorable due to Gypsy Moth, Cutty Sark and the
Old Royal Observatory where I watched my GPS go to 000 00.00
On Friday we took the
Eurostar from London to Paris. My wife asked me how fast we were going. From
the feel of the ride I guessed 70 or 80 mph. I got out the GPS and it was
clocking us at over 180 mph. Spent one night in Paris at a hotel within walking
distance of the train. The room was very small; couldn’t get my wife’s
wheelchair in the tiny lift (elevator) to get to the second floor, but it
didn’t matter much as the closest lift stop was on a stairway landing between
the first and second floors.
On Saturday, we cabbed
to the Charles DeGaul airport and took an Alitalia flight to Venice. Cabbed
again from the Venice airport to Chioggia. Chioggia was very festive and
colorful - it is the kind of place I expected Venice to be from pictures and
reading. There were brightly painted houses and boats, beautiful canals and
bridges, street vendors and souvenir stands. The four of us stayed at a first
class 2-bedroom suite in hotel in town. We had unforgettable fish soup for
dinner. To me it wasn’t soup; it was an aquarium that had been warmed up –
there where whole shrimp, squid, mussels and more in that bowl.
We walked less than ½
mile to the Charter Agency the next day. There was no building associated with
the dock, only about 8 slips for the charter fleet. We were greeted by Marcelo.
It took about 2 hours for him to complete all paperwork and familiarize us with
the boat – his final duty was to take us out for a brief demo ride; that’s when
we discovered the net wrapped around the propeller. Formalities and demo ride
completed, we were on our way with several hours of sun left.
We spent the first night
aboard about 15 miles north of Chioggia, in S. Piero in Volta tied to the
seawall. The agency had recommended a mooring spot in the vicinity, but I’m not
sure we ended up in it. It was very peaceful as the sun set. We sat up on deck
sipping exceptionally good local wine, marveling at the landscape and
complimenting ourselves on our first successful day in the Venetian lagoon.
Our serenity was
terminated in the early morning hours when the fishing fleet began moving
offshore. This picturesque little town we had chosen to spend the night in is
right next to Porto di Malamocco, an inlet used by fishing boats in the area.
The unforgiving seawall punctuated our rocking from the wakes to the point that
sleep was impossible. Noone slowed to pass, it seemed as if our boat was
‘invisible’ to local craft. Before first light, I went ashore and meandered the
¼ mile to the Adriatic. The glow of the spectacular sunrise gradually made the
40 or so fishing boats materialize on the water.
The run from S. Piero in
Volta to Vignole the next day (about 15 miles) was extremely pleasant. There
are briccole (markers) every 50 meters making navigation somewhat less than
challenging, but stress free passages were taken advantage of in absorbing
local sights and vessels. That afternoon, we moored at a secluded, special
agency mooring site in the canal that divides Vignole. We used this spot as a
home base while we did Venezeia and Morano by water bus. After getting the boat
properly situated at the agency mooring, we hiked to the water bus stop and
were ferried to Venezia.
Venezia is spectacular,
but crowded. In addition to the regular water traffic, there are huge cruise
ships and yachts to contend with. I did get a kick out of the familiar khaki
uniform of the UPS man standing proudly at the helm of his gondola, heading up the
Grand Canal for his next delivery. St. Marks isn’t to be missed, but the
density of tourists in the square was above my tolerance (not to mention the
pigeons). Some of us stopped at an Internet café on the way back to the water
bus, but I abstained; eMail was one of the things I was on a vacation FROM.
The next day, Wednesday,
we again walked the ¼ mile from our boat to the waterbus and lit out for
Morano. Morano is the ‘glass’ island. There are glass factories, which produce
glass in every shape, color and size from beads and jewelry to knickknacks to
tableware to massive decorative sculptures. Murano is smaller, less crowded and
there are fewer bridges to negotiate with the wheelchair. We thoroughly enjoyed
Murano.
On Thursday, we needed
to pick up a couple more crewmembers, Kurt and Richard, at the Venice airport.
Two more crewmembers were easily accommodated as the boat had three staterooms,
each with it's own head. Kurt and Richard had spent time aboard with Natalie
and George last year on the canals of France. We took the boat to get them,
there’s water right up to the baggage claim area. The water traffic in the narrow
channel to the airport was almost overwhelming. The well marked channel to the
airport was about 4 boats wide. We ran at cruising speed, 6 mph, for that run
of 5 miles, being overtaken in one direction or the other every 15 seconds or
so. Keeping out of the way of commercial traffic and compensating for their
wakes, while trying to stay in the channel was a monumental task. A single turn
of the wheel would change the attitude of the boat, but it would take a couple
hundred yards for boat to realize a new course. The only way to make an
immediate course adjustment was two and 1/4 turns (hard over), then it took a
series of 6 or 8 corrections to get it normalized. This part of the vacation
was more work than pleasure.
With the new crewmembers
aboard, we headed back to our hidey-hole at Vignole. There was a dredge in the
airport channel on this passage back. The dredge was positioned a little off
the center of the channel to my side and if I wanted to leave him to port, I’d
have to venture out of the channel. If I left him to starboard, I’d be blind to
oncoming traffic in an area wide enough for only a single boat, until I was on
his beam (at 6 mph this would have been an eternity). I was still weighing the
options at about 100 yards, when a deck hand on the barge signaled me to leave
him to starboard, indicating that my course should be under the bucket, which
was positioned to plunge for another batch of spoils. I was within 50 feet of
being directly under the bucket, when the operator swung the crane over the
barge and out of the way. I think he did this when he saw the sweat running off
my face in a manner to rival Niagara Falls. The rest of the way back to Vignola
was a piece of cake.
I still think those
Venetians are pretty casual about the way they leave their boats. In most
situations, there are pilings right off the seawall. Where there are no
pilings, there are rings at regular intervals built in along the wall. This
place in Vignole had the pilings, but they were far enough off the seawall that
the fenders were useless. The technique was to tie the mooring line to the
cleat, make one loop around the piling, and back to the cleat – one at the bow,
one at the stern. The boat just rode against the pilings. The loops would slide
up or down as needed to allow for the tide. In the case of rings on the
seawall, you did get the benefit of the fenders, but you couldn’t stay snug
against the wall because you needed to leave slack in the lines for the tide.
Once we were again
securely attached to the pilings in the quiet canal of Vignole, Suzy and I
stayed aboard while the others took the water bus to Venice and Murano. It was
nice having the boat to ourselves – we took advantage of the opportunity for a
nice nap. When the troops returned, they brought armfuls of wines, cheeses,
breads and fresh fruits and vegetables. Before it was all stowed, a party went
off on foot to bring back desserts from a nearby restaurant. Thanks to my
sister Natalie (a gourmet cook) all our meals aboard (including breakfast)
rivaled or surpassed the culinary delights we experienced ashore.
The next day, Friday, we
all went to Murano. As this was our second trip to this island, we were able to
take in details rather than being overwhelmed by new sights. I’m a people
watcher and there was no shortage of opportunities to hone my skills. Also,
while I seldom have the urge to go inside stores, I do enjoy window shopping.
Suzy and I spent the morning watching people and peering into store windows.
Lunch was enjoyed at a
first class restaurant on the Grand Canal (main street) of Burano. We sat on a
terrace that was built out over the water. The seafood in Venice is
unbelievable, probably because it’s fresh daily. Someone ordered lobster, but
it wasn’t available because the boat wasn’t due for another ½ hr.
We wanted to experience
the Grand Canal of Venetia from the water, and because our houseboat was not
allowed there, we decided to do it by water bus. We took a water bus from
Burano to Venetia, then got on a ‘local’ to ride around Venetia and through the
Grand Canal. We had planned to stop at Lido after our excursion, but this local
water bus made so many stops and was so crowded that we all began wishing we
were back aboard the houseboat sharing a bottle of wine. We unanimously decided
to cut Lido from the schedule and headed back to the solitude of our secluded
mooring in Vignole.
Saturday was a day of
preparation for the trip to Burano. The first task was to top off the boat’s
water tank. We’d done this earlier in the week, so we knew the drill,
especially the part about not having the current push us into the low bridge
which was only a few feet from the water source. We waited until the tide was
against us, then motored to a spot in front of the public fountain. We spun the
boat in the narrow channel using the bow thruster and quickly tied the stern to
a tree ashore, letting the current swing the bow parallel to the seawall. After
the bow was secured via a long loop to a light post we broke out the tank
filling paraphernalia.
The public fountain was
short a stone column with a gargoyle head on one side which dribbled water out
of the mouth. The flow ran 24/7 at about a gallon a minute. To catch the water,
one cut the bottom off of a plastic drink bottle, poked a couple holes in
opposite sides of the rim and looped a string between the holes. A hole was
made in the cap that was just large enough to accept the end of an unterminated
length of hose. Then all one has to do is loop the string over the gargoyle’s
head so the stream from the gargoyle mouth is directed into the plastic bottle.
The bottle then funnels the water into the hose, the other end of which is in
the fill hole for the boat water tank.
Wallah! In a matter of only a couple hours old man gravity has put more
than a hundred gallons of water in the tank.
The next task was to top
off the fuel tank. The boat didn’t have a fuel gauge; Marcelo had told us to
calculate fuel usage based on X liters per engine hour. We’d done that, and
figured we could probably get by until the end of the charter, but the route to
our next destination, Burano, took us reasonable close to a fuel stop. The fuel
dock was just off the right of way for water busses, taxies, gondolas, UPS
barges etc. so it was not only congested, but wakes were also plentiful. Negotiating
the approach through the traffic was a little daunting and there wasn’t much
room for error as the fuel dock is just that, only a dock…room for one boat. We
bounced through the wakes and I got the bow in close with the help of the bow
thruster. We threw a line around a piling on the starboard side, and hurriedly
offered a stern line to the attendant. The attendant waved off the stern line,
and I truly considered teaching him some four letter docking words in English,
but I decided to go with the flow. I cranked her hard to port and put her on
about 1,200 rpm. As the short bow line strained, the stern made it’s way to a
firm position at the dock. The wooden pilings attenuated the effects of the
wakes as our stainless rub rails slid up and down their worn faces. We were all
happy to get under way again for the peaceful trip to Burano.
On the way to Burano, we
were passed by newly weds in a water taxi. The boat was festively decked out in
flowers and ribbons. As they passed us, we had a good view of the happy couple
cuddling in the back of the boat, he was in his tux and her veils were being
blown about by the breeze.
We moored beam to the
fetch in Burano, at the place recommended by the agency. We were rocked
regularly by wakes as we were right on the channel, but the motion wasn’t too
bad. We split up as we left the boat to explore this rather small island. I
call Burano the Lace Island, because that’s the specialty there, lace in all
shapes and sizes, similar to how Murano was with glass. Burano was busy but not
overly crowded. The tourist shops were concentrated near the town square along
with several restaurants. There were residential areas and there were areas of
small stores where the residents shopped. The local children played
hide-and-seek and soccer in the square. The houses were brightly painted and in
good repair, some with unbelievable gardens of fluorescent flowers. The people
were friendly. This was my kind of place.
We eventually all got
together for a late lunch – this was facilitated by each group carrying a
walkie-talkie. Those little 2 way radios are great for this kind of thing.
Richard picked out a restaurant right in the midst of the busy tourist area;
there would be a 10 minute wait. As we were being led to our table, we realized
that the bride and groom that we saw in the water taxi were having their
reception at this restaurant. Not only that, but our table was between the
wedding cake and the keyboard player. George said he felt like he was part of a
scene from The Godfather.
We all smiled and well
wished the couple when they came within earshot, and we cheered the dancers and
gave them thumbs up when the conga line passed by our table. My sister and her
husband had their picture taken with the weeding cake. Even though we couldn’t
understand the words, the music was outstanding – we felt like family at the
wedding. As we were leaving, George boisterously congratulated the newly weds,
and the entire wedding party rose to give him a standing ovation as he exited
(maybe they were shouting good riddance?)
We were all back at the
boat relaxing on deck, when we were approached by a local. Kurt speaks French
and French is evidently closer to Italian then English, so Kurt became our
interpreter. We got the idea that the local, now known as Bruno, wanted us to
relocate (to a spot across and up the canal) because there was a forecast for
severe weather. I wasn’t sure whether Bruno was concerned for our safety, or he
just didn’t want our honkus houseboat moored in front of his residence.
Ultimately, we decided not to relocate. It was getting dark, we’d all had a few
glasses of wine, I didn’t think the couple hundred yards of fetch over 15’ of
water would pose much danger even if the weather did get nasty, plus that spot
across the canal looked mighty small.
Bruno reluctantly
accepted our decision not to move and invited Kurt to his house. Kurt returned,
explaining that Bruno had shown him some of his work – Bruno was a painter. It
wasn’t long before George and Kurt both went back to Brunos, then returned with
a Bruno original. Bruno came by a short time after, presenting us with a bottle
of Grappa. I’m not sure what the official description of grappa is, but it
tastes like it’s in the gasoline/lighter fluid family.
Not long after we got to
the ½ way mark on the grappa, another native came by to warn us about the bad
weather – we thought we understood him to say “tornado”. I still wasn’t game to
move, but I was outvoted. Of course by this time it was dark.
George took the helm, I
untied us and we proceeded around the corner to Bruno’s recommended spot. This
spot was just off of a dogleg up in the canal. With the aid of the bow
thruster, we were able to get the bow tied off, then realized that no matter
how we oriented ourselves from there, the stern would be hanging out in the
channel so far that it would be impossible for larger boats get by. We ended up
mooring at a spot directly across the canal from where we had been (< 50’
away) except in this spot we were stern to the fetch instead of bow to. I get
really nervous when people are jumping on and off the boat in the dark, after a
few drinks, but in this case there was no harm done. The ‘tornado scare’ turned
out to be little more than a lightening display that kept its distance.
Sunday morning we were
fortunate enough to be able to go up on deck and have front row seats for a
parade of Venetian racing gondolas, oared boats, scows, power boats and small
sailing ships. This parade was the beginning of a Regatta. The town was
bristling with associated activities including a seafood festival. They had
mounds of little shrimp, squid, octopus and who knows what else that were
heaped together in a bucket of batter, shaken, then deep fried. There was no
preparation prior to this battering; these little guys were whole and almost
kicking. After they cooled a little, you popped a pinchfull into your mouth;
Mmmm good! I’d go back to Burano for nothing more than a handful of those
little fried critters.
I was the helmsman for
the 6 hour trip back to Chioggia that afternoon. We had to have the boat back
early Sunday, and it was customary to spend the last night at the dock to avoid
a late return because of weather or other unexpected conditions. We did take
the houseboat out the last inlet before hitting Chioggia, just to get a little
Adriatic Sea spray in the face.
Chioggia was a different
town when we returned. It was still charming, but the festive atmosphere we had
stumbled on when we arrived was missing. We learned that the weekend of our
original arrival was the last weekend before the kids went back to school. The
town that had been celebrating the last fling of summer on our first encounter
was now void of the locals and local tourists and street vendors that had been
out in full force the weekend before.
We ordered a van to take
the 6 of us to the airport, but there was nothing big enough available, so we
took two cabs. Kurt and Richard were on a different airline, so we split up in
Venice and regrouped when we landed at Charles DeGaul in Paris.
We stayed 2 nights in
Paris. The hotel room was again small, very small. The room itself was about
12’ X 12’. One almost had to step out of the shower to turn around. I was
fascinated with the plumbing, most of which was exposed. The pipes were pretty
much out of the way, running floor to ceiling in the corners, but what was
strange was that they did not use “T”’s or compression fittings, all the
junctions were welded.
On Monday we had a full
day in Paris. We took a double decker tour bus ride past such sights as Louvre,
Notre-Dame, Arch of Triumph, Eiffel Tower, Opera Square in the morning. This
was especially exciting because we had the front row seats on the top deck.
This perspective sometimes made us a little nervous due to the closeness of the
traffic (sometimes inches from touching) – which seems to be the norm in Paris.
Our afternoon excursion was on a different bus to Versailles. Now there’s a
palace if I ever saw one.
The last night in Paris,
we had dinner at a restaurant owned in part by Richard and Kurt. Great food,
and outstanding service.
We were back home on
Wednesday, in disbelief that we had for the first time in our lives,
experienced Europe. This fairy tale was made possible by the generosity of
George and Natalie who not only made all the arrangements and reservations, but
also footed the entire bill. The only time I put my hand in my pocket was to
pay for souvenirs. Not only that, George led all the tours and did all the
organizing, kept things on pace and even made sure I had local currency in my
pocket in case of an emergency. Suzy and I had all the responsibility of a 10
year old on vacation with Mom and Dad – the ideal way for us to do Europe.
Back then, I
didn't keep a camera handy especially since all those pedestrian bridges
in Venice were a challenge with the wheelchair.
 |
| Upper pic at charter dock. Lower pic at water fill dock. |
The charter boat company is the Blue Line Cruises
(France mostly). They currently have one boat in Venice. Their web page is
http://www.barginginfrance.com/.
