Saga Ruby Captain's blog

On yet another bright and very warm morning we anchored inside the sheltered bay that the ancient city of Syracuse protects, the golden yellow stone of the buildings seems to reflect the sun’s early rise and invite the tourists.

Our tours to Mount Etna and the Baroque city of Noto soon left, followed by another to the San Giovanni Catacombs and wine tasting at the estate of Casa del Feudo. (Perhaps unsurprisingly this tour was over subscribed). Other folks, like myself a little later, went ashore to explore the old town the ‘Citta Vecchia’, which is, according to the guidebooks, rich in mediaeval and Baroque palaces. I felt it definitely had a somewhat shabby splendour about it, narrow alleys with balconies reaching towards opposite stone walls, grubby with age and dust, worn volcanic black stone pavements, and the usual amount of motor scooter traffic buzzing around.

What was spectacular was the cathedral, situated on a great courtyard paved with pale stone shiny from centuries of constant use. The original building dates from 480 BC when it was the Greek Temple of Athene and had columns that were covered over 1300 years ago when it was converted to become a Christian church and have now been, in a few places within the building, exposed. It was refaced in the Baroque style during the 17th century and the imposing façade is not only quite magnificent but an inevitable draw for the many tourists who pour into the city and pose on the steps for the inevitable photograph.

We sailed shortly after 4 pm, with a relatively fast two-day run to Gibraltar ahead of us. A few years ago on a similar journey I ended up ‘rescuing’ two boat loads of economic migrants who feigned a broken down engine in order to attract attention. We shall be vigilant. 

After an overnight passage we arrived off Venice just before breakfast, early, but not early enough to deter most of our passengers intent on not missing the delight of sailing into what is probably one of the most romantic of ports. The weather did not disappoint and as we cruised into the lagoon, past the construction for the new flood defences, the arsenal and the lido, we could see the reflection of the rising sun glistening from the roofs of Venice, the ‘floating city’. I pointed out over the deck speakers where a quick glimpse of the Bridge of Sighs could be observed as we continued our journey past the Doge’s Palace and the Camapanile di San Marco, the beautiful tower in St. Marks Square that signifies the heart of the old city. We continued, passing the entrance to the Grand Canal, the church on San Giorgio Maggiore where Vivaldi taught and composed, and the elegant old Molino Stucky flourmill and granary that has been sympathetically converted into a Hilton Hotel, eventually berthing close to the edge of the city.

Our passengers left to either catch waterborne tours or the complimentary shuttle boat that left from just ahead of the ship and delivered them close to St. Marks. After morning duties were complete I also took the opportunity of taking a lift and re-acquainting myself with the labyrinth of narrow streets that are the arteries of the city, along with its over 160 canals. After the hustle and bustle of the square I found my way over to Academia, one of three bridges that cross the Grand Canal. The throng of people gradually thinned, it became a little easier to take a quick peak into the many attractive shop windows that displayed everything from hand made paper to Venetian carnival masks, ceramics, glass and of course the very tempting breads and pastries that appeal to the nose before the eye.

By keeping my eyes open for the raised yellow signs that indicate ‘San Marco’, ‘Ferrovia’ or ‘Rialto’ I found my way to the latter, that famous bridge of shops that is world renown. Re-crossing the Grand Canal I returned to St. Marks, not having had to pull the map out of my back pocket once. Venice is incredibly busy, and very touristy in some areas, but for me at least, it is a place I cannot believe I shall ever tire of returning.   

There is a narrow channel between two of the outer islands that lead into the Splitski Kanal, and it looked like every other mariner around was making a bee line for it, including numerous yachts, a couple of ferries and the odd fishing trawler. Fortunately, the closer we got the more the traffic situation sorted it self out and we went through without incident, passing a local fisherman who was casually hauling his nets close to the centre of the busy waterway.

After a further seven miles we anchored just off the entrance to the harbour of Split, but not before the harbour master’s office called up and requested for us not to drop the hook on the chart’s designated anchoring position, but several hundred yards further out. Pity they had waited with their instructions until we were over the spot. Later in the morning I took a tender into the town, a first visit, even after over forty years at sea. It had a bustling atmosphere, no doubt caused as a result of Split being the hub for all the other ports and islands down the Dalmatian Coast. Numerous ferries were coming and going, the yacht harbour was packed, smaller coastal cruising boats were berthing to exchange their guests, and travellers in various stages of their journey seemed to be hanging around waiting for some scheduled departure or arrival.

The main palm lined boulevard next to the water, with the sun reflecting from the local white stone walls, was lined with cafes and restaurants with folk watching the world go by, on the streets behind, visitors were crowding the narrow alleyways of the old town, and further on a local market was a hive of activity. This was no Tescos. For me, with all the multiple accents and languages to be heard, it was just a little to busy, but for the passengers I spoke with afterwards, they said they loved the place.

Saga Ruby sailed down the Italian coast and into the Tyrrhenian Sea, passing Naples, Vesuvius and Capri on the journey towards Salerno. Only in recent times has this port become more of a cruise destination and, although the docks are still very much geared up to commercial freight operation, a new cruise terminal should be completed within two years and will lead directly onto the elegant seafront promenade, the ‘Lungomare Trieste’.

Our local agent was particularly keen for a few of us to see what the city had to offer, as a result we had a most interesting few hours learning just a little about this ancient city. Our first stop was up at the Castle of Arechi built in the 8th century and sympathetically restored to allow visitors to enjoy the spectacular views over the city and coastline disappearing in the heat haze to the south. We came back down and eventually left the car for a walk through the old quarter, busy narrow streets, elegant shops and tall old balconied buildings with quiet courtyards. We passed the Scuola Medica Salernitana, the first university of medicine in Europe and entered the elegant Cathedral where, downstairs in the crypt, a tomb is said contain the remains of Saint Matthew the Evangelist. It was possible to pass down great marble steps and enter the surprisingly bright room where magnificent religious paintings adorned the vaulted ceiling and multi coloured marbles lined the walls. After the heat of the day, the cool atmosphere was particularly noticeable. Another set of smaller steps led down to a grill and glimpses of a dusty earth floor and worn stone slab behind, all rather mysterious.

We were taken to have a ‘light bite’ in a small restaurant; the only other customers when we arrived were celebrity chef and guest lecturer on board, Anthony Worrall-Thompson and his wife. Needless to say, the food was very good, and the owner was an ex-seafarer who had worked on a ship I had later commanded. As might be expected, a few reminisces were shared.

A comfortable day at sea with light following winds and hot sunshine took us through the Straits of Bonifacio, that relatively narrow gap between Corsica to the north and Sardinia to the south. The following morning and the port for Rome was just a little busy, six passenger ships taking their turn to enter and dock, and then debark thousands of folks for the hour-long journey. Our tour numbers were fairly light, with many of the Saganauts already having taken that journey on a previous cruise, so there were quite a few who chose to relax on deck in the shade and the gentle breeze coming over the sea from the west.

I met one lovely lady who had nipped into the town on the shuttle bus quite early and by eleven she was back chatting with others on the lido deck with a bag full of special metallic looking thread she had bought in the market. ‘Half the price’, she said, and ‘I’ll make myself a very nice top’. That could be interesting.

Civitavecchia port continues to grow and just by our berth we could see the ongoing construction works for a new passenger terminal. Reclaimed land outside the old breakwater and the old one being torn down with gusto. The old stones were being smashed into chippings by a rock press while a powered jackhammer was in competition nearby. A regular run of concrete mixer wagons kept coming to add their contents to the new sea wall and some sort of great drill was boring holes for new pilings I presume. The scene of activity was, I think, one more appreciated by our male guests.

We sailed, slightly ahead of schedule, once all passengers were on board, into a gap between the steady line of departing cruise ships.

Like Venice and Amsterdam, St. Petersburg is a floating city, crouching on the water, criss-crossed by rivers and canals, sewn together by hundreds of bridges, ceremonial, quaint or humdrum. The principal waterway is the River Neva, leading eventually to the Gulf of Finland. Inside St. Petersburg, the Neva is contained within granite banks, but its influence on the city is constant. When the long winter’s ice suddenly shudders and cracks, the river rejuvenates the city. On the light nights of summer, when night never really falls, the twilight sky meets the grey murky waters of the easternmost part of the Gulf of Finland almost seamlessly.

Much of St. Petersburg’s charm stems from the grand architectural plan of squares, parks, boulevards, palaces and monuments that was begun by 18th Century architects imported from Western Europe. The rules of the game rarely wavered: the object was to design a capital fit for an imperial power, self-explanatory in its nobility and grace.

Arrival into St Petersburg involves a long pilotage of 30 nautical miles across the Nevskaya Inlet between the cities of Kronshtadt and St Petersburg. This large expanse of water gives the illusion of a vast bay, but the reality is that most of it is merely a couple of metres deep and that the only navigable waters are the narrow canal ways marked by stick buoys that are maintained by dredgers and crisscross the Inlet. Arriving at 0415 and third in line behind the Jewel of the Seas and the Mein Schiff 2, evidently on similar itineraries given the number of times we’ve seen them, we proceeded inward past the almost finished sea defences at Kronshtadt and onward towards the new cruise ship terminal. The sea defences although operational apparently will be fully completed at the end of this year. The encompassing barrier that connects Kronshtadt with the mainland has only the one opening to the south of the island, with two large gates that can close to prevent flooding in the event of persistent westerly winds. Passing Kronshtadt, still a base for the Russian Navy but somewhat in a dilapidated state, the morning sun reflected off of the dome of the Cathedral like a beacon, marking the way and ensuring that the island didn’t go unnoticed as we made our way towards the former capitol city and home to the Tsar’s.

For our two day stay in St Petersburg there were numerous tours available, too numerous to list in a short blog and certainly too numerous to cover in only two days, hopefully leaving something “for next time”. It was hard to imagine in the hot sun during both days of our stay, that only 3-4 weeks ago ice up to 3 feet thick was still chocking the waterways here, and that icebreakers would have been in use to maintain the main routes.

Sailing again, was to be something of a precession of cruise ships, as we carefully manoeuvred sideways away from our berth, tightly sandwiched between the Jewel of the Sea’s and a ferry ramp in the corner of the new terminal. We followed the Mein Schiff 2 once more with the Jewel of the Sea’s following us back along the narrow canals, past Kronshtadt and back into the Gulf of Finland.

We arrived to pick up the pilot with the sun still shining on us, literally. Though expected to be a little colder here in Helsinki, 22 degrees Celsius is perfectly acceptable from my perspective, and that of the pilots too. Particularly given that the pilot told me that they have had an exceptionally cold winter, with over a month where the temperature didn’t get above minus 20 degrees C.

Making our way to the berth involved navigating though a narrow cut with a fortress on the port side which when translated is called Helsinki Castle. Originally built under Swedish occupation to defend against a sea attack from Russia, apparently it never got to fire a canon as the invading Russian military marched overland instead, bypassing its defences.

Finland’s capital grew up around its harbour on the Baltic Sea, gradually expanding into the metropolis of today. Over half a million people live in Helsinki and as many more in its visionary satellite towns. But in spite of its size and sophistication, the city preserves much of the charm of a small 19th Century seaport. Helsinki was a Swedish outpost until the early 19th Century, when it became the capital of the Russian Grand Duchy of Finland, an event that triggered a building boom. More expansion came in the 1920s, following Finnish independence.

With the return of all our passengers the Saga Ruby set sail at 1800, back through the cut and out to sea.

With the weather so far being fantastic this cruise, it was a surprise to hear from the pilot that only several weeks prior to our arrival that they’d still been having snow and that ice had been still clinging to the shores in parts of the archipelago. The sun had just risen at 4am when the pilot boarded, bathing the rocky shores of Sandham in a red light, and the cloudless sky promised to provide us with another day of sunshine with 28 degrees C forecast as the high.

We’d unfortunately been only allocated an anchorage this time despite booking a berth having been “bumped” due to the high number of cruise ships in on this day. Apparently it happens about a dozen or so times per summer season now, with more and more cruise ships visiting the region. So it was to be a day of tendering for our passengers and crew. On the plus side the anchorage was right in the heart of the town, unlike the berth, making the Gamla Stan (old Town) a 10 minute walk away for those who wanted to avoid the shuttle bus and stretch their legs.

Though seven centuries old, Stockholm officially became the capital of Sweden in 1634. Today, the city is not only the seat of the national parliament, but also the country’s financial and business centre. Dramatically sited where the cobalt blue waters of Lake Mälaren meet and merge with the darker hues of the Baltic Sea, the city enjoys a splendid setting. Stockholm began at Gamla Stan, originally three islands now joined into one. It developed into a trading centre and eventually the royal and political capital, spreading gracefully from its nucleus outwards over 14 islands and neighbouring peninsulas, connected by over 40 bridges. The different islands and districts that make up Stockholm are unlike one another in that they create the illusion of a series of miniature cities, only distantly related. Each is imprinted with its own distinct charm and mood.

With everyone aboard just before 4 pm, we went about letting go from the buoy astern and recovering both anchors one at a time that were keeping us pointing towards the Gamla Stan in the narrow, yet busy waterway. We then proceeded out as part of what looked like a convoy of cruise ships and ferries. We were second in the convoy behind a ferry bound for Helsinki, and ahead of the Jewel of the Seas, Mein Schiff 2, Crystal Serenity and another ferry. Being small enough to take advantage of the route out to Sandham though we soon split off with the one ferry ahead of us as the other cruise ships were too long and had to head further north up Tjarven Pilot Station. It was 2030 by the time we dropped the pilot off at the edge of the archipelago, and proceeded at full sea speed towards Helsinki.

Transiting the Kiel Canal is the nautical equivalent of driving down a country lane complete with raised hedgerows stopping you from seeing around the corners. On each side of the canal are fields and farmland with the occasional house, village or hamlet, just like a country lane. You have to use lay-bys to permit traffic to pass just like a country lane. Stretches of the canal even smell unmistakably like a country lane, magic tree or no magic tree!

All in all for passengers, and indeed most of the Officer’s and Crew, it’s quite a pleasant journey that people look forward to. On the bridge however it is viewed with slightly less enthusiasm. Like a pleasant country lane it may be, but if you had to drive down 61 statute miles of country lane at little more than 8 miles per hour, your perception might differ somewhat too.

KIEL CANAL FACT FILE                                    SAGA RUBY FACT FILE
Length: 98.729 kilometers (53.3 nautical miles)    Length: 191 metres   
Depth: 11 metres                                               Max Draught: 8.5 metres
Width at water level: 162 metres                         Extreme Breadth: 26.2 metres
Width at bottom of canal: 90 metres                    Molded Breadth (below water): 24.38 metres
Clearance height of all bridges: 40 metres            Air Draft: 38.5m with mast lowered.
Maximum speed: 8 knots                                   Dead slow ahead: 6.7 knots

Preparation for the Kiel Canal transit starts in Dover with the lowering of the topmast, reducing the air draught from 44.5 metres to 38.5 metres. This done in order to permit us to pass under the bridges without causing a major international incident.

Pilotage starts at the Elbe and on this transit the Elbe pilot was picked up just after noon to start our journey to the Baltic Sea via the canal that was first opened on June 20th, 1895 as the Kaiser Wilhelm Kanal. The first set of locks were reached at Brunsbuttel at around 1500, and with one of the larger locks literally just reopened after maintenance, we sailed straight in as the first ship to use it for a while.

Once inside the locks the pilot changed for the second time (the first change happens just outside the locks) and two helmsmen joined us as well. It’s a peculiarity of the Kiel Canal to supply their own helmsmen, who work in shifts, but is no doubt appreciated by the ships Quartermaster’s. On leaving the locks the pilot seemed optimistic about the time for the transit and expected us to sail through at a good speed only having to stop once at the first siding.

It is normal to slow down a couple of times and maybe stop at a couple of sidings to allow oncoming canal traffic to pass us safely, but on this occasion the pilot’s optimism was unfounded and we had to either slow down or stop at every single siding along the canal as we made our way towards Holtenau. As a result, the passage that normally takes 12 hours was finally was completed in 14 as the Saga Ruby dropped the last pilot off at 2 am, before proceeding into the Baltic Sea.