If you are unfamiliar with the general habits of the cruising crowd then you may not know that it’s common and expected practice to rumour-monger and bash to bits the places you have chosen not to visit. Since this Med adventure is now over, and we have accumulated a humble 6 months of first hand sailing experience here, I feel like it would be a good time to dispel  or reinforce some of the Med myths that we’ve all heard so much about.

Here we go:

• It’s overcrowded

Yes there are more people here on boats than in other parts of the world. Funny this doesn’t stop many people from visiting French Polynesia, Bahamas, Thailand etc. You also have to wonder why there are so many people visiting right? Answer: It’s really great!

We’re spoiled brats who’s pendulum constantly and reliably swings from one side that wants perfect secluded anchorages all to ourselves with clear warm water to swim in, to another that craves easy access to a populated shore and all the convenience and local culture it has to offer.

Before long we get tired of having to wear clothes, spend money, and people in general, so begin craving another great anchorage. The Med offers both, and you don’t have to go very far to find a completely different change of pace or scenery. We loved the blend. There is something for everyone’s habits and addictions.

There was a tremendous amount of commercial traffic in some areas, but this didn’t bother us. Commercial traffic have the right lights, a lot to lose, likely have more experience than you do, act predictably and almost certainly have AIS. There are always exceptions of course, but what I’m saying is we would take a night passage on the busiest stretch of Med water dealing with 1000 foot tankers going 18 knots, over erratic and creatively lit third world fishing boats any day… or night, you know what I mean.

• Dirty

Yes, there are dirty anchorages and places you wouldn’t even consider getting in the water. Fortunately those are usually the places where there’s more interesting things to see on land anyway.

It also has to be said that we anchored in some of the clearest cleanest water we have ever seen. Ask the Pacific camp if they have ever anchored in the Aitutaki harbour, Hiva Oa, or Nuku’alofa.  Not many swimmers in those harbours. The point is there’s crap harbours everywhere, and we didn’t find the Med’s balance much different than other Seas in the world.

• Expensive

This one surprised us. We found cheap or free moorings all over the Med. We stayed a week in a little marina in Greece for free, we stayed in a gorgeous Turkish bay on brand new moorings for free. In fact we were able to find free moorings or good anchorages in pretty well every country we stopped in. In Greece we spent an average of 15 Euro for a night in a marina, and I think the most we spent was 30 in Sardinia. Yes, the most expensive marinas in the world are here but don’t worry, if you are in a sailboat and didn’t book 18 months in advance or provide a 5000 Euro bribe they won’t let you in anyway.

We could usually find beer for 2-3 Euro when we were out, and for a dollar or less at the store. If you eat like the locals you can go out and have incredible and inexpensive meals. Jaime and I usually shared a dish or two, had a drink or two for less than 20 Euro.

Kebabs, Greek salads, and Sicilian pizzas were the best low cost high value items we found and you won’t believe how cheap and great the selection of wine, meats, cheeses, and olives are at the grocery store. Like the marinas you could spend as much as you wanted to on food, but there are loads of cheap options.

Diesel was pricey and averaged apx 1.25EU/litre. Propane (butane actually) was the most expensive here and surprisingly challenging to find. More than anywhere else in the world

Overall you cannot say that the Med is categorically expensive, totally untrue. The crappy marina in Benoa harbour was more expensive than the beautiful perfectly maintained marina in Paros.

• The weather is terrible

We totally underestimated how bad the conditions could get in the Med. In the Pacific 20-25 knots makes for great sailing, the same wind speed in the Med can be dangerous. This burned us and a lot of other boats unfamiliar with Med conditions. The troughs are short and the waves are steep. They stand up, break, and we experienced more incidents of confused (aka: sloppy crap) here than anywhere else.

Once we learned to check, respect, and plan around the forecast things were fine. This can translate into a lot of motoring if you are lightweights like us and prefer to sneak between systems in order to enjoy a nice calm anchorage instead of slogging it out in crappy weather just for the sake of throwing up a sail.

Schedules will get you into some uncomfortable water here.  When we had the option of waiting for light conditions and checked wind and swell forecasts beforehand, leaving earlier than planned or staying later, passages were far more comfortable.

• Unfriendly and unsocial

This is probably the craziest Med myth we heard. Sure we have encountered some idiots, some unfriendliness and worn out bedraggled service staff during the high season (June-September) but these were by far the exceptions.

I think the number of charter boats may lend to this comment since they usually have their own thing going on and don’t get involved in the so-called “cruiser community”. If you are out sailing around only looking for people living on other boats from your own country maybe this is the case, but we’re not really sure how even that would be possible.

Instead of speculating I’ll just say that we were never lonely unless we wanted to be, and in every place we stopped (without exception) a friend was never more than a “hello” or a cold beer away. We were also recipients of touching generosity in the form of food, drinks, invitations by locals keen to show off what they have to offer so many times we lost track.

Out of all the things we heard before going into the Med this probably rates highest on our BS scale.

• Charter boats

Yes, there are million. Yes, they are crazy. Be afraid. We had a handful of encounters with the truly brain dead, the kind you can only hope hasn’t decided that this is the day they are going to self select themselves out of the gene pool. Fortunately we suffered no permanent damage, and more often than not charter people just end up providing the afternoons entertainment.

There are slight variations from time to time, but usually it goes like this:

A charter boat pulls into the anchorage, circles harbour, 12 people rush forward to drop the anchor in the worst possible spot, nobody stays at the helm, boat drifts dangerously close to [reef, other boats, rocks, continent, ferry etc] anchor does not set, 12 people rush back to the helm and start the process all over again. This can go on for hours. Once satisfied that the 10 meters of chain is the perfect amount to hold the boat in 9 meters of water they get dressed in very fancy clothes and all 12 of them climb into the 3 person dinghy. They take turns trying to start the outboard for approximately 30-45 minutes.

At this time the first signs of dissension in the group appear. One faction (the girls) give up on the engine and begin trying to row the group to shore by waving oars around like sugared up 8 year olds trying to sweep a bat out of an open window.

The other half (the boys) stubbornly refuse to give up on the engine. Manly looking pulls, frown lines and concentrated discussion are the hallmark of their club. At risk of being shown up, they don’t point out to the bat sweeper crowd that their theatrical attempts at rowing are pointless since the painter is still attached to the boat.

Angered by a glancing blow from one of the bat sweepers, the chief engine frowner then turns all of his frustration on the little outboard and gives that pull cord one last mother of a pull. This of course fails to start the engine but succeeds in knocking the person next to him out of the dinghy who can’t swim, but was fortunately wearing a lifejacket and, oddly, white (fortunately waterproof) zinc on his nose for sun protection.

One bat sweeper helpfully points out that they would have been there by now if they had just rowed to shore. An engine frowner begins to yell something back at her but is cut short when someone trying to help lifejacket guy back into the dinghy falls out too. Three bat sweepers start crying while four other people decide that they have had enough and begin swimming for shore.

Eventually somebody notices that the little red key had never been inserted behind the kill switch. Three more people start rummaging through the boat looking for it when the chief engine frowner finds it in his pocket. He inserts the key and the engine starts on the first pull. Everyone climbs back into the dinghy except for the four swimmers who by now have finished their first round of drinks on shore.

Three more end up swimming to shore after the first ripple encountered threatens to sink the overloaded dinghy, and 48 seconds after that the only remaining occupants flip the dinghy while inexplicably trying to negotiate a surf landing.

They drag the dingy 11 centimetres up the beach to keep it from floating away and join the original swimmers at the bar where everyone is wondering why they didn’t just use the floating pontoon in front.

Having provided our neighbours with the occasional laugh and scare over the years, we are obligated to cut charter people some slack. Besides that we’ve found that charter people make great company.

Most are only out for a week or two and have to fly back to a crappy job which tends to make you feel really good about life. They can also provide a nice alternative to the heavily recycled weather and boat repair topics normally found in anchorages. Charter people also have the ability to make even Jaime and I feel like really knowledgeable sailors, and most importantly, we always have better tans.

So there you have it. As usual most of the negatives turned out to be total B.S. and even if they weren’t the place still has so much going for it; the food, history, cultures, 3 or 4 months straight of perfect weather, and of course the topless beaches. We heard so much crap about the Med that it turned out to be a really pleasant surprise for us. We’ve met people that have been happily been cruising around here for years who like to remind us that we’ve barely scratched the surface. As nice as it’s been, we are just way to far up in the Northern latitudes to be here past October. Yeah, it’s cold and way past time to head south. Did I mention that we’re spoiled brats?

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