The Sick Boat …

Posted by rachp on November 24, 2010

… not the Love Boat. In the height of summer, the Patra to Brindisi or Bari ferry is blissful. You cruise under a huge red sun through the beautiful islands on flat-as-a-pancake seas. Romantic and wonderful, it’s one of our most highly recommended boat journeys in the world. We did it in June 2007. In late November however, the Venice, Italy to Patra, Greece ferry – a rather longer affair at 27 hours (and rather more expensive) – can be a bit of a nightmare.

It all started wonderfully. We cruised verrrry slowly along the canals, privileged to have one last, long, lingering look at Venice. The night was fine and we ate, drank and got merry whilst playing endless games with the kids up on the top deck. We all slept well. Of course, the second day got a bit tedious, but Joe and I had plenty of work on and could get loads done with internet in the lounges. The kids were excellent, entertaining themselves, zoning out on their laptops and eating endless snacks.

By the late afternoon of day 2 however, a bit of a chop was getting up. This could be an understatement. As we sailed past Albania, which offered views of only sheer, empty cliffs, the sky was filled with lightning and the seas responded spectacularly. We had to disembark at 5.00am and Joe was up against a work deadline, so I tried to get the kids to bed in our 4-bunk cabin. Sleep has to be the best inoculation against sea sickness. Alas, there was no way. We were on the 7th deck and yet waves were hitting our porthole window. Not spray, but waves. We were yawing all over the place and the lightning crashed around us. I can deal with head-on uppy downiness of a boating nature (you can tell how advanced is my nautical language) but the side to side stuff? That just wipes us out. Poor Jenna was blocking the toilet and sink with sick. Rhys looked a nasty shade of green. Rowan was hanging in there bravely. I was powerless to stand up and clear things up, let alone offer physical comfort … I had to sit utterly rigid holding on to the bunk railings in order to stave off the sickness myself. Let alone the irrational fear that we were all about to die. I desperately wanted to get outside and get some air – the only way I usually keep my stomach contents in. Tablets were not making a dent in the inexorable, awful, impending feeling. There was no way the kids could be left alone however, they were getting scared and it was all I could do to reassure them that boats are made to withstand exactly these kind of conditions. To be honest, I was beginning to doubt that myself. It was a horridly long night with the delightful smell of sick filling the cabin.

When Joe finally came up (I had been praying he would for hours) it was a huge relief and I may have been a little shouty. He had been working so hard that he said he hadn’t really noticed the motion till he went outside for a cigarette. This proved impossible with the waves drenching every deck and the extreme winds. He couldn’t quite belief how wet everything was. We looked at him in disbelief and I may have raised my voice a little more. This was not our imagination! Joe, thank goodness, is quite a hardy sailor. This meant HE could clear up the sick, which he did admirably. As The Fixer in our team, he makes an ace sick clearer-upper. Maybe it was because the smell had cleared, maybe the seas were calmer, maybe it was Joe’s steadying influence but we did – eventually – get some sleep. Only to be awakened a couple of hours later to clear our cabin ready for disembarkation. Grrrr.

Kermit our RV and Huwy the Peugeot were rather damp, salty but clean looking. I understand now why they were chained down, and also why they don’t allow ‘on board camping’ (where you stay in your campervan on deck through the voyage) in the winter months. If we were getting sodden on decks 6 and 7, our poor vehicles down below must have been deluged. Luckily no fish were found up exhaust pipes. We couldn’t wait to get onto dry land, in the dark, in thunderstorms, with a mere 6 hours of driving to go. Welcome to Greece, eh?

How we travelled: