In the "Sailors confess" series, we confess our stupidest sailing mistakes. But we are also looking forward to your confession. Send us your text, if possible with pictures, to mail@yacht.dekeyword "sailor's confession".
Suddenly there is shouting and a wildly gesticulating officer comes running towards us. My 10-year-old son and I are standing on a floating dock in Portoferraio harbour. He is holding the dinghy, I want to take a photo of our charter boat against the picturesque backdrop of the harbour town. But something is wrong here.
"Cast off, get out of here," I say to my offspring, but we don't get round to it. The officer is there and stands in front of me. White cap, lots of tinsel, he reaches about up to my chest. He makes up for his lack of height with loudness. In Italian, which is of little use to me. But I realise: something has gone wrong here.
I just wanted to take a photo
Recently an article on yacht.de about New regulations for the port of Portoferraio on Elba appeared. It reminded me of an incident that happened almost 15 years ago. My mate and I were arrested, sued and convicted there. For a photo that was never published - until now. Because now I can explain how it came about - or rather, I have to confess it.
The day before we had arrived with a Sun Odyssey 54 DS chartered in Italy, moored with the help of the friendly harbour master, explored the town, everything was fine. The next morning we were due to head north to Capreia. But before that, we had to take a quick picture for an article in YACHT. We were happy to have the boat that was used for the trip in front of a fantastic backdrop. What could be better than a photo of the yacht in front of the million-dollar yachts in the harbour and the colourful houses of Portoferraio?
Especially as the conditions couldn't have been better. A light breeze, plenty of manoeuvring space in the harbour and directly opposite the backdrop, as ordered for us, a few empty floating docks.
That's where my 10-year-old son and I set off in the dinghy. While we are moored there, my wife and my mate, his wife and the other three children untie the lines of the charter yacht, motor out of the harbour, set the sails and come back in. They make a big round in the harbour, jibing and passing the huge yachts. These are going to be great photos!
The arrest
From the officer's verbiage, I realise that we are in a restricted military area. The floating docks apparently belong to the fortress behind them, which is still in use as a military base. I didn't know that, badly informed. My attempts to talk my way out of it with German Press and the like are of no use. He wants to arrest us on the spot. However, I manage to convince him that the crew on board wouldn't be able to cope without me as skipper. We are allowed back on board, but are instructed to moor at a low concrete jetty on the west side of the harbour.
A small car is already waiting there for my mate and me. He is arrested just like me. I don't know what he has to do with it. While we are taken to the fortress, the women and children have to use low-hanging fenders to prevent the hull of the boat from rubbing against the jetty in the gentle swell.
In the military dungeon
In the fortress, we are led through many corridors of the historic walls, as if into a dungeon. The only thing missing is a rack or an iron maiden. I wouldn't be surprised to see a few suits of armour either. The corridor ends in a small walled room with a large wooden table. The setting calls for torches on the walls and a pentagram on the floor. No, the room is actually not quite so medieval. Behind the table sits the officer who bundled me onto the gangplank, engrossed in reading documents. A younger man in uniform sits next to him, staring through us. We wait. It has something of the Inquisition about it. After several minutes, il Commandante clears his throat, looks up and his subordinate explains to us in broken English that we are now on trial and that he is our defence lawyer.
The process
I feel really queasy for the first time. What's going on here? A trial? The charge is trespassing in a restricted military area and unauthorised sailing in the harbour. What, that's illegal? I didn't know either. I can make it clear that the sailing was on my instructions and that my mate couldn't help it. But that doesn't get him off the hook. In for a penny, in for a pound - it's not going to come to hanging.
The conviction
After an exhausting interrogation about what we were doing there, the boss pores over several books. Does he look up the sentence? Cut into quarters, weave on the wheel, mutilate? We'll be sentenced to a fine, says the lieutenant. Phew, lucky me, I think, that can't be the world. Then the officer painstakingly fills out a form and, at the bottom, he writes numbers in a box. Is that a nine? I can't make it out, I just see several zeros following and I'm already in the debt tower.
We are dismissed with the remark that we have to transfer the money, otherwise we would be prosecuted by the European authorities. Without a handshake, but with military honours. On the journey to the jetty, after all we are being taken back, I look at the form: 300.00 euros. That's okay, painful, of course, but with all the fuss I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been 30,000 euros.
The realisation
The women and children are obviously happy to see us again, let's get out of here. As soon as we leave the harbour, the Capreia plan is abandoned, too far now and the mood is in a low ebb. We set course for the Marciana Marina just round the corner. On the way there, I ask my mate: "How was I supposed to know that you're not allowed to sail in the harbour?" He replies: "Why, it was written in the harbour guide and in big letters on a poster by the harbour master. I was still wondering why you wanted to sail there. But you're the boss." Arrgh.
The really annoying thing, apart from my own stupidity, was that I was never able to use the photo. Some reader would certainly have stumbled across the fact that it shouldn't have been taken in the harbour, and we can't set such an example in YACHT. Who knows who will copy it? So 300 euros for nothing.
Or almost nothing, because now I've confessed it!
And her confession?
Have you also made stupid or avoidable mistakes that resulted in funny, dangerous or expensive situations? Then please write to us at mail@yacht.dekeyword "sailor's confession".
