Sardinia in summer - Italy pulls out all the stops. The bays in the south of the island glow a transparent blue, the sand under the keel shines like white paper. A warm wind blows across the deck as we move from one spiaggia to the next, dropping anchor at midday and living like in a film. Title: "Paradise Now - the turquoise planet".
As if that wasn't enough, Bella Italia also conjures up the right ingredients on the cockpit table by reaching into the provisions box. We sit under the awning in wet surf shorts, staring at an infinity pool and feasting on fresh olives and flavoursome pecorino cheese. On the side: three small bottles of Campari, which are available in every supermarket down here. Over at the beach bar, Italian summer pop is blaring, and after countless dips in the warm sea, the only thing left to do is think about taking the dinghy over there again later so as not to completely evaporate in this sugar-sweet anchor life.
A view of Mediterranean magic
If we ever get tired of the dolce vita existence on the Sardinian seabed, there are alternatives. We could take a trip to Cagliari and take a look at the pretty old town. We could sail over to Villasimius, eat a pizza in the old village and then sit down in a bodega with a gelato in our hands. View of the yachts. View of the harbour. A view of all this Mediterranean magic.
And this does not only exist in Sardinia. Europe's southern coasts between the Balearic Islands, Italy and the Greek islands offer pretty much every pleasure imaginable on a planet that can be travelled under sail. Warm seas, mild winds, picturesque harbours. On land, the nearest seafood restaurant is never far away and the unwieldy word "infrastructure" generally lives up to its far-reaching meaning. There are charter bases almost everywhere, as well as supermarkets, boat shops, boutiques, doctors and pharmacies. There are plenty of bars, colourful markets and pretty cafés. Life on the Rivieras between Palma and Corfu feels as carefree as in a land of milk and honey - Europe's comfort zone.
Depending on the area, it is less than 100 nautical miles before the sailor reaches a demarcation line. An invisible barrier that separates not just sea areas, but worlds. On the other side of this sea border, which runs from west to east through the entire Mediterranean, there are other customs, other languages, other cultures. On the shores on the other side of this border, there are different odours in the air and life is based on different customs.
Africa begins here
There is no Campari there. The number of stand-up paddlers in the bays is zero. Boutiques with skimpy bikinis and hip flip-flops are usually nowhere to be found. Instead of full-suspension mountain bikes and freshly washed SUVs, old bikes and battered Peugeots drive along the roads. Here and there, donkey carts. Under minarets adorned with crescent moons, people pray to another god. And the sun burns even hotter, because this is where Africa begins.
The weeks on the southern Italian sea feel as light as a feather. Nevertheless, we have been wondering for some time whether we shouldn't take a detour to the realm opposite. After all, sailing boats are there to sail, and a passage across the open sea is tempting. We could sail 140 nautical miles from Sardinia to Sicily or 240 nautical miles to Mallorca. But we could also sail steeply southwards - and reach Tunisia after just 100 nautical miles. A short transcontinental trip on our own keel. Destination Africa, mooring in 1001 nights.
Questions about questions
But as tempting as it sounds, Africa is not Europe. The mere thought of sailing there triggers completely new thoughts. You have to pass through the large traffic separation scheme between Suez and Gibraltar, one of the world's main shipping routes. You need a passport and have to clear in. What harbours are there? Do they have water and electricity? And are there any pleasure craft charts for the African coast? Harbour handbooks?
Then there are the refugee boats. They set off from the coasts of Tunisia, Algeria and Libya and head for the coasts of southern Italy. What happens if you come across one of these boats on the open sea?
And finally, there is the question of how safe the harbours are. Is it safe to anchor? Could pirates be up to mischief off the coast?
The idea cannot be dismissed out of hand. Just a few years ago, German authorities warned against calling at North African harbours. Terrorist cells and Islamist groups would not even spare the local navy, let alone foreign pleasure craft. The Piracy Prevention Centre of the German Maritime Police reported several incidents just ten years ago. Even today, the authorities still speak of an increased risk situation in Libya's territorial waters and recommend increased vigilance when travelling in the waters off Egypt - the Mediterranean, the Suez Canal and the northern Red Sea. Particular attention should be paid to approaching small boats and speedboats.
Prejudices of the European
Egypt and Libya are not Tunisia. But even when it comes to the coasts of the neighbouring Maghreb, Africa begins in the mind. As soon as you seriously consider sailing there, questions arise about the great continent with all the connotations, news and prejudices that come to mind for us Europeans. So we also considered whether we should do it or not. Africa or not Africa? That was the question here.
Some of the sailors we met on the jetties in southern Italy talked about their experiences on the Tunisian coast. The reports were very different. A Dutchman told us that the Tunisian harbour master had asked him to leave the country in the summer of 2021: "Too unsafe, I can't guarantee anything." A Swede reported that a fishing net got caught in his propeller off the Tunisian coast, whereupon three fishing boats approached. Six men climbed on board with him and demanded absurd sums of money.
But there were also other stories. An American couple were also in nearby Tunisia. "Fantastic!", they both said. "Enchanting villages by the sea, tidy harbours and the friendliest people we've met in the Mediterranean." An Australian sailing couple with children on board and another American yacht confirmed the latter impression: "Tunisia is wonderful - go there. It's safe, it's beautiful."
Adventures in Tunisia?
We thought about it further, it was high summer. Swap picture-book Italy for a little adventure?
The question of refugee ships was less adventurous and more tragic. Many yachts have already encountered migrants in the Mediterranean, which can end in a dilemma in terms of maritime law and human behaviour: You have to help, but you can't. Where to take the people? Who will take them in? And what if there are more souls in need than you can take on board your yacht?
Due to the increasing number of cases, charter companies have published brochures explaining what sailors must, may and must not do in such situations. Many yachts encounter refugees on the Lycian coast and in the Aegean Sea, but the courses also cross again and again between southern Italy and Tunisia.
The decision has been made: It will be Tunisia
On a scorching hot day, our yacht floats in a green bay off a deserted grotto in southern Italy, we decide in favour of Africa. We tell ourselves: Tunisia is a modern country, a pluralistic democracy with free elections. What's more, we will be able to eat fresh dates and have real couscous. We can marvel at old minarets and perhaps catch a glimpse of the old Orient. All this on our own keel.
The wind is blowing three to four from the north-west. We are still in front of the pink-coloured dunes of Italy. Mobile phone reception is good, the nearest beach bar is within reach and the wine is cold. Around midday we weigh anchor and set sail. We set course for the open sea and North Africa.
We are sailing in a flotilla of two. Next to us is an Australian with his small catamaran, a James Wharram Tiki 30. Light winds blow us out to sea, soon Italy becomes narrower and narrower behind the stern: Europe is dissolving. The unfamiliar feeling of real travelling sets in. We will arrive in a different world, a different culture.
Change of course and perspective
But isn't that what sailing is all about? Isn't that what it used to be about in the first place? Travelling instead of cruising? Exploring instead of relaxing?
The boat is travelling at four or five knots through a wide, blue sea. No ship far and wide, just sky and water and a thin cloud travelling across the chine. Night falls, the sun sinks red in the west. The Milky Way spreads out above our heads, like a crackling ribbon across the firmament. Are these already the stars of the Orient?
We have chosen our speed and course so that we don't reach the main shipping lane until the morning. The first boats are promptly recognised on the AIS at sunrise. We obtained large Admiralty charts for the Tunisian coast in advance. The charts for commercial shipping were the only ones to be found for the southern sea areas of the Mediterranean.
Two container freighters are travelling far outside the marked boundaries, we furl our sails and drop down to avoid colliding with them. A vast, vast sea: and yet here we come alarmingly close to the assembly line of modern world trade. In 2022, almost 24,000 ships passed through the Suez Canal, that's 65 per day. Most of them come and go via the route off North Africa.
I can make out the bridge wing of a freighter. A man is standing up there, probably one of the officers. Wearing a T-shirt and a cap on his head, he is leaning on his ocean liner and gazing pensively at the two sailing yachts that are travelling across the sea before his eyes.
Searching the sea with trepidation
We don't see any refugee boats for miles around. But later an emergency call comes in over the radio. "Small boat adrift, extreme caution." The reported position is far away from us, east of Lampedusa. But from now on, our eyes are constantly scanning the sea with a certain trepidation.
We reach the southern limit of the shipping route. Seven freighters are travelling east at over 20 knots. They are widely staggered across the sea and we are able to hold our course. Then land appears on the horizon for the first time. A light-coloured seam that takes shape with every further nautical mile. Martini Beach and Bella Italia are no longer ahead. Ahead, Africa comes towards us.
A turtle swims alongside the boat, two dolphins jump. We pass three small fishing boats. Diesel-spewing barges with men sitting on the sterns preparing food on open fires. The smell of roasting lamb wafts across the water.
Harbour entrance of Bizerte in Tunisia
Then the entrance to Bizerte comes into view: the northernmost harbour town in Africa and the first and best port of call for yachts travelling from Italy to Tunisia.
We turn round a pier that is exposed in the sea and chug into the marina on a sultry afternoon. There are palm trees on the shore and Tunisian flags as big as flying carpets hanging in front of white colonial buildings.
We moor at the sheltered outer pier, but are not yet allowed to go to the berth. Two men from customs and the police come on board. They are friendly, wearing jeans, wiping the sweat from their foreheads. They have notepads with them, forms. They want to know if we have drugs on board, people.
They go to the forecastle, open the cupboards, the lockers. They ask if we have any medication with us. What kind of cameras, computers, foreign currency, radios, radar equipment? How many cigarettes, how much alcohol?
They note everything down. It takes an hour and they take our passports with them. We can pick up the papers at the Capitainerie soon. Then Monsieur Raouf, the harbour master's aide, walks up to us. He is open and warm-hearted and says three magical words: "Bienvenue en Afrique.
Marina turns out chic
The marina in Bizerte is large and modern. Half the harbour basin is empty, many small motorboats are moored on the mooring lines, here and there the masts of foreign yachts rise into the sky. There is electricity and water, rubbish is collected from the jetties every morning and there are guards at the entrance to the marina.
The showers are downright sophisticated compared to Danish and German toilet blocks. Bizerte has invested in a modern marina for good reason: The aim is to attract major boat shows here in the future.
We enter a French restaurant at the harbour. Seafood, steaks, fresh juices - for a handful of dinars. Arriving in Africa is a very pleasant experience. But we are too exhausted to go into town.
The heat is overwhelming. It's only 300 kilometres from here to Douz. That's where the desert begins, and the "Gateway to the Sahara" holds an African record: 55 degrees in the shade.
I lie in the cockpit in the evening. Behind the river to the old harbour, the walls of the medina glow in the night. At eleven, the muezzin sings from the loudspeakers. The evening prayer sails from the minarets over the hot city out to sea. I listen to the adhan for a while longer, then drift off to sleep under the open sky.
Old Bizerte adorns itself with souks and medieval alleyways
The next morning we head into town. Old Bizerte with its souks and medieval alleyways is within easy walking distance. Just behind the Habib Bougatfa boulevard, we come to the old harbour. People sit in the cafés, colourful fishing boats bob at the pier. Flying traders push their carts through the hustle and bustle, watermelons, soaps, peanuts, plastic helicopters, oranges and incense sticks are piled up along the way. Skinned pig heads dangle in front of the stalls in the souk, sacks of spices are strewn everywhere and Bill Haley is blaring from the ice cream parlour on Rue Bourguiba.
Tuna and sliced rays are on display at the fish market alongside street stalls selling millions of mobile phone cases and mountains of football shirts.
Bizerte is buzzing with life. Here and there a cow strays, a carriage with a finely dressed wedding couple drives through the middle of the hustle and bustle. We enter the Kasbah and stand in front of the blue door to a hammam. A steam bath here? The African air alone means sauna from morning till night.
Actually, it would be enough to soak up the many impressions for two or three days. Then fill up the diesel tanks for less than half the European price and sail back to Italy with the right wind.
A detour turns into almost two weeks
But we like the country. The friendly people, the magic of the Maghreb. Our detour turns into almost two weeks.
Yachts from New Zealand, Australia and France are moored in the harbour. All ships that sail around the world. Not showpiece yachts. They look harsh, full of ropes and sheets, tanned by the sun and salt water. A young guy comes across the jetties towards us, he is at most in his late 20s, a scaffolder from Canada who has bought an old yacht in Tunisia. I ask about his plans. "I want to go to Marseille first, visit a friend," he says. "Then home, across the Atlantic to Canada." There are no fair-weather sailors down here in Tunisia. There are serious sailors down here.
We ask Mr Raouf about destinations in the north of Tunisia, this side of Hammamet and Djerba in the south of the country. The harbour master's aide was a diver in the navy for 30 years and says he knows every reef in the Mediterranean. "Go to Sidi Bou Saïd," he recommends. "But take the bus, the harbour entrance is currently silted up."
Historical Tunisia
There really aren't many harbours in northern Tunisia. Instead, after a two-hour journey, we get off the bus at a historic site. To the north of Tunis lies the old fishing village of Sidi Bou Saïd and the ancient centre of the Mediterranean: the legendary Carthage. We walk through the excavations, see the old Roman cisterns and the surviving mosaics and circular walls of the Punic period.
The small town of Sidi Bou Saïd, situated on a hill on the Gulf of Tunis, became famous for another reason. The artists Paul Klee, August Macke and Louis Moilliet travelled here for a fortnight in 1914. They saw the shapes and colours of northern Africa, the landscapes and simple houses of the Maghreb. Then they began to paint. Their "Tunis trip" made art history and opened the door to abstract painting.
We walk up an alley and enter a small world of white and blue houses on top of the rocks. Berber carpets hang on the walls, goatskin lamps stand in front of shady cafés. We stand in front of yellow portals studded with cast-iron ornaments. Bougainvilleas twine up the walls, the light razor-sharp. Sidi Bou Saïd is a little oasis in itself. A dream world: Belle Afrique like something out of a fairy tale.
From the balconies of the "Villa Bleue", we look out over the Mediterranean in the evening. It lies at our feet like a blue Gabbeh carpet. To the north, somewhere on the other side: Europe.
Different worlds just a day's journey apart
Worlds that are still so alien to each other - and yet are only a good day's sailing apart. Our conclusion has long been clear: "We would have been rash and ignorant not to sail here."
We set sail on a Thursday, the sun is blazing. We sail another day's stage eastwards along a light brown, rocky coast. At one point, three fishing boats approach us. We tremble briefly, but they hold course for Zembra Island.
The Tunisian army used to be stationed on the island, but today Zembra is a biosphere reserve. Wild pistachios, broom and juniper grow there. Apart from a few rangers, only birds, rabbits and rats live on this patch of earth.
We had heard that you need a special permit to anchor here. And we don't want to test our luck, especially as we have already disembarked in Bizerte. Zembra passes by like the outline of a battleship.
Last night off the coast of Tunisia
In the evening, we turn round Cape Bon and spend our last night at anchor on the Tunisian coast. The Kelibia fishermen's pier lies ahead, a hodgepodge of colourful boats moored behind the entrance south of Ras Mostefa.
We are lying in a green, sandy sea, not allowed ashore without papers. I take the binoculars. People stroll along the Corniche, summer visitors sit on plastic chairs on the beach, the Gulf of Hammamet at their feet. On the Plage de La Marsa are the Beau Soleil Hotel, two ice cream parlours and a beach club under palm trees, with young people running into the water in front of it.
Big holiday in Tunisia, midsummer over North Africa. I glance at the navigation app. The beach we're looking at is called Spiaggia Bella Rimini. A homage, a dream. The African longing for sugary-sweet Europe.
It's only 100 nautical miles from here to there. But nautical miles can be pretty damn relative.
Cruise in the golden triangle
It is a good 100 nautical miles from Sardinia's southern coast to Bizerte, the first and best port of call in the north of Tunisia. Alternatively, it is also possible to travel from Sicily: from Mazara del Vallo or the Egadi Islands - preferably Favignana - the crossing to the Italian island of Pantelleria is a day trip of around 60 nautical miles. From there, the Tunisian coast at Cape Bon is only around 40 nautical miles away and can therefore also be easily reached in one day. The triangle between Sardinia, Sicily and Tunisia is a delightful experience for long-distance sailors. The complete round trip can be planned in both directions depending on the wind and offers plenty of variety: lots of culture, different worlds - connected by decent but feasible sea routes
About the author: Marc Bielefeld
The 56-year-old journalist and author from Hamburg lived and worked on his 42-foot ketch "Solemar" in the Mediterranean in 2022. He has written numerous reports here, including for YACHT. His most recent book was published "Logbook of passion" published by Delius Klasing Verlag
