Excalibur takes a mud bath

Vulcan is the Roman god of fire, and he is believed to reside in the volcano on the Island Vulcan. Volcanoes throughout the world are called after this one island in Italy, home to the Fiery god of fire. Naturally we decided to pay a visit. Upon arrival we were stunned with the natural beauty of the island, and the massive volcano towering over it. As this is Italy in August, the best anchoring bay was filled to the brim. We found and anchor spot in 20 meter of water, 650 meter from the beach, and not quite inside the bay anymore. The anchorage, and the main town of Vulcano cannot be described other than underwhelming. The great Italian cuisine definitely does not feature on this island, with its tourist trappy restaurants. What does feature are snack bars and loud night clubs. You know the god is still there, because next to the ferry terminal, there is a yellowish rock, with a pool of smelly mud. Also, sulphuric gases cause a pungent malodorous stink. Naturally, the wind decided to make a change, and we where facing 4 Beaufort with fetch all the way to Sardinia. We decided to move to the other side of the island, where there was a well sheltered bay with with the current wind. However, this bay was full of a swell from the other side. In other words, the island, with its two bays on diametrically opposite side could not provide the shelter we where looking for. Also we were now anchored right next to the mud baths, and slowly the stink pervaded throughout our boat. It took us some steaming with all hatches open.

Throughout the night Excalibur was soaking in the rich mud, next to the little vulcano. I just touched the anchor chain a few times, and this was enough to perfuse the smell on my hands. The smell is mostly gone now, but I swear that sometimes I can still catch a whiff. At least Excalibur had a good time on the island of Volcano. I for one preferred our anchorage the night before, on a good clean sandy beach, with just a minor storm gusting over the deck up to 8 Beaufort.

Panorama of Vulcano island

In the morning there was no wind at all. Every boat was pointed in a different direction, and altogether too close for comfort.

The cone, oozing mud and oodles of stink.