Slow boat...

 

We're shivering on the port. It's three in the morning and the promised midnight ferry is just creeping slowly into its berth. It's raining hard. A handful of cars are waiting and lots of trucks. They are being checked for stowaways by a sniffer dog and a guy with a powerful torch.

After our last boat was an hour late, Aimile has made excellent progress. We needn't have worried about our connection, just about the treasure hunt to find where the boat might dock. We'd sped along fast roads in the gathering darkness, stopped at a Praktiker to buy snow shoes and a few other essentials and grab a coffee. We passed the amazing canal but it was too dark to see, likewise the ancient town that St Paul supported with his famous letters. the most famously quoted extract is a clue to the date of the first opportunity to win a prize. But there will be other clues - so don't worry too much if you don't immediately get it.

We wait patiently while garbage and laundry is loaded and unloaded. Then the trucks start moving around. We snooze for another hour, then drive Aimile slowly through narrow passageways into a lower floor of the ferry. We're herded into a space at the front of the boat. There's a scrum to unload essentials from our cars and we are directed to a flight of steep steps leading to the passenger deck. I struggle up a few levels, then give up and walk across one of the car decks looking for a lift. As the crew don't like to mix passengers and trucks, this has an immediate effect, a bit better than the earlier shrugs I was met with. I'm quickly escorted to a lift. At the top my travelling companion is fuming - he's valiantly carried my bag as well as his own - and no one told him about the lift.

Our cabin is larger than expected and has a fridge, TV and good size window. The blind is broken, but hand rolling reveals a very rusty frame. The toilet flushes occasionally, but the shower works and the water is hot. We'd used some of the delayed time to find a place to eat. This town is the home of Mamos beer and a few glasses of the draft had made us feel a lot better.

The ferry is tired and shabby, the restaurant is not working and the staff are mostly grumpy. Two days on this ship are not going to be the mini Med cruise that was promised.

We sleep late having not got to bed until four in the morning. It's bright and sunny and we've docked at an interim port. Breakfast is over and the cafeteria is closed. There's a coffee bar and my friend goes on a mission to find hot drinks. He succeeds and we complete breakfast with a packet of digestive biscuits I've brought with me.

Managing to catch the slim hours of the cafeteria, we join the truck drivers for lunch. It's not brilliant, but washed down with a bottle of wine, it's not too bad and we begin to feel better. The light on the aqua blue water is amazing and mountainous scenery stretches into the far distance. The coast is deserted and craggy rocks drop starkly into the sea. It's a pleasant scene, cruising gently along the coast but then all the lights go out and the engines cut out. Now we're not cruising, we're drifting. The truckers, unconcerned settle in small groups to chat and play cards, In a while, we have lights and the boat starts moving again - time for a late siesta before rushing to catch the cafeteria before it closes again.

It's been a short night, so we're early to bed. It's fine until just after midnight when we wake to bumps. crashes and a lot of movement. The ferry has hit a storm. There's no chance now of making up any lost time. when we get up, we find that the outside decks have been closed and it's hard to move around, Windows everywhere are leaking and towels line the floors to sop us the sea water. Spray obscures any possibility of a view. Again, we've missed the narrow space of time that breakfast was on offer. Lunch is being served. It's pretty much the same as dinner last night. I persuade one of the staff to find me yoghurt, honey and fruit. Coffee is not allowed - that's only for breakfast. But he manages a few slices of feta to go with some bread.

We were supposed to dock at 10.00 this morning, It's just before 5 in the afternoon, when we join the queue of trucks for passport control and customs. I didn't expect this. When they see Aimile, they can't stop laughing. 'London, in this!' They pass us back our papers, mutter something I think means good luck and give Aimile a friendly pat on the roof, He's certainly turning a few heads...

It's just getting dark as we head out of the port - we've got a long way to go...