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Italy’s Islands of the Wind prove as enchanting
as they sound during an Aicon’s maiden cruise.
By Cynthia Barnes — Spring
2005
Ulysses just wanted to get away. The hero of Homer’s
Odyssey can be forgiven—he wandered
these waters for ten years, trying to find his way home. I’ve got
only a few days for a shakedown cruise aboard the factory-fresh Aicon
56 Tooling Around III before she’s
shipped to the States, and I am determined to make the most of every moment
in this Italian idyll.
When our Homeric hero sailed through Sicily’s Straits
of Messina, he had to avoid the monster Charybdis and escape the 12-footed,
six-headed Scylla, which gobbled half of his crew. Upon my arrival, I
endure the trials of modern-day wanderers—lost luggage, a weak dollar,
and chaotic traffic. But when Tooling Around
III departs from Milazzo, the stress stays onshore.
Our destination, the Aeolian Islands (Isole Eoli), is
less than an hour from the Sicilian mainland. The chain is named for Bronze
Age King Aeolus, master of the wind and friend of travelers. Lipari, the
largest and most populous of the isles, will be our base for exploration.
It’s the first to reveal itself, jutting abruptly from the blue haze.
The eight islands of this archipelago are the work of volcanic eruptions,
having literally exploded from the sea.
Fuel is the first order of the day, but the petrol dock
we pull up to is closed—a concept foreign to Americans.
“Closed?” we ask, incredulously. It’s
four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon.
“Closed,” confirm the guys filling their motorbikes
at self-serve, auto-pay pumps. But the attendant we need will return.
When is another question. They confer, and shrug. “Soon.”
Well, viva Italia. I abandon Capt. Antonio Ruggeri to
scope out the shopping in Lipari proper. (Hey, I told you I’d lost
luggage.) The Armani store is closed. As is Paradise, which sells Paul
& Shark yachtwear. And the restaurants. Plus the souvenir shops, although
a peek in the windows reveals gorgeous obsidian jewelry and colorful pareos.
The narrow streets are deserted, save for an aproned woman carefully mopping
her steps below a brilliant curtain of fuchsia bougainvillea. It’s
the Italian equivalent of siesta—things will reopen around six—so
I walk back to the boat. (Full disclosure: I grabbed a calzone from one
of the few open snack vendors and then walked back to the boat.)
The attendant has returned and, with the Aicon refueled,
we happily set out to circle the island. White houses with terra-cotta
roofs dot the hillsides. Covered with conifers and cacti, the slopes bear
scars where giant slabs of rock have sheared back beneath the waves.
After admiring the scenery, we make fast at Marina di
Porto Salvo, just north of the imposing castello and near where the ferries
and hydrofoils come in. It’s late in the season, and only a few boats
are in port. The city begins to light up, and we make our way up to dinner.
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Part 2: Best known as the setting for the Academy Award-winning
film Il Postino, Salina has been inhabited
since at least 5000 B.C. Page
1,
2, 3,
4, 5,
6, 7,
8
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