Go Sail:Think G&Ts before lunch, banana daiquiris by the pool. Mal Rogersboards the 'Royal Clipper' for a leisurely cruise of the Mediterranean
I FELT SORRY for our guide in Malta. Extravagantly well-informed, humorous and urbane, Vincent wanted to tell us all about Malta. He had taken us to St John's Co-Cathedral to see Caravaggio's The Beheading of St John the Baptist– apparently he was briefly a Knight of Malta, and when not engaged on one of his orgies of debauchery (Caravaggio, that is, not Vincent or John the Baptist) developed the theatrical use of light and shade.
Vincent had then escorted us through the steep narrow streets of Valletta, reminding us of its 7,000-year history, pointing out its vast fortifications, and showing us where the Knights of St John defended Christendom. We’d finally reached the Upper Barrakka Gardens with its jaw-dropping views of the Grand Harbour. Our guide looked round at us – a scoop of journalists sprawled across the seats of an executive coach. He could detect our torpor. “Anybody want to take a photo?” he asked plaintively. “It’ll only take a thousandth of a second.” Nobody stirred.
It wasn’t really our fault. Vincent had got us on the last day of a cruise on board one of the most luxurious cruising ships plying the high seas. A week of uninhibited carousing had taken its toll.
Think G&Ts before lunch, banana daiquiris by the pool. If you're feeling a little energetic you can even climb up to one of the passengers' crow's nests, thoughtfully furnished with comfortable settee. One of the obliging crew will then bring you a Malibu passion fruit rum or suchlike. "And don't forget the nibbles, you incompetent cowardly rascal, sir, damn me if you're not," you can shout. Yup, despite the luxury, all those sails will instinctively have you going all Mutiny on the Bounty– even though the service is pretty much flawless.
If climbing the mast (with safety harness provided) sounds a bit too frenetic, an excellent alternative lies with the nets hanging from the bowsprit. This is the part of the ship which attracts the sun-worshipping, scantily clad people; yes, those with a thong in their heart.
Meanwhile, at the back of the boat, a marina platform lowers into the sea to allow for watersports and diving. Of an evening this is the place to sit and look out over the darkening waters of the Mediterranean. Somehow all that poetry you’ve never quite been able to fully grasp becomes clear: “The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out.”
But the Royal Clipperis enough to awaken the muse in anyone. Running before the wind, she is just about the most romantic sight afloat: five masts, 42 sails, 5,200sq m (56,000sq ft) of billowing canvas. This is the world's largest sailing ship – but with only 227 passengers, exclusivity is guaranteed.
Our trip began at Rome’s port, Civitavecchia. I’d imagined a harbour clogged with container ships jostling for space with huge cruise liners stuffed full of Rome-bound tourists. Which is exactly how it was. Fortunately within the hour we were heading south – to Capri, Sicily, and finally Malta – where Vincent, even as we checked on board, was putting the final touches to our tour of the ancient Fort Saint Elmo. Meanwhile, we headed excitedly up the gangway, where our first cocktails awaited us.
At six bells – or maybe four – it was time to head for our quarters. The clipper's Edwardian era-style accommodation was entirely right – all wood, brass, portholes. There was even a place to stow my oilskins and melodeon (which I'd forgotten). Back on deck it was time for the sail-off. Casting off from the quayside was always an occasion, done with great pomp. Vangelis's Columbuswas played over the PA, while immaculately-dressed sailors scurried about doing things with capstans, belaying pins, hawsers.
“'Andsomely, lads, ’andsomely,” you’d hear yourself saying to the scurrying crew, coming over all nautical but nice once again.
As the clipper nosed away from its mooring the topgallant sails filled, and the ship picked up speed. The smaller sails began to billow – the angel pokers and cloud disturbers all breezing into action. Rome silently slipped astern.
OUR FIRSTstop was Capri. I was able to insinuate into the conversation (several times) the name of Jimmy Kennedy. The Omagh man changed the way the English-speaking world pronounces the name of the island. Until he wrote the Isle of Capri, we said "Cap-ree", the Italian way. Well done Jim. And the fact that it means "Isle of Goats" does nothing to detract from its romanticism. Mind you several busloads of tourists from the north of England somewhat blunted the island's appeal.
But we had to see Axel Munthe’s house. Anybody who can say, “The wild, cruel beast is not behind the bars of the cage. He is in front of it”, has to be worthy of attention. Thoughts of coach parties came to mind. Funnily enough, none of them had made it to the Villa San Michele, where the Swedish doctor spent some 56 years.
Back on board, after discussing Munthe at length, we went through the rest of Jimmy Kennedy's hits (well, okay, I did). The Teddy Bears' Picnic, South of the Border (Down Mexico Way), and of course Red Sails in the Sunset. Which reminded me – it was time for another incredibly romantic sail-off. However, Vangelis held sway over Jimmy, and as the sun set over Capri we blew south towards Sicily.
"We still-a have-a some problems with organised crime-a," announced our Godfather tour guide as we sped up unfeasibly narrow roads and round alarming hairpin bends. The news about organised crime in Sicily had us idly wondering if the appointment of a new pope leads to an increase by one the overall number of Catholic popes, or whether mammals of the genus Ursus– with the possible exception of those in Polar regions – tend to relieve themselves in the woods.
But if you're a Godfatherfan this whiff of cordite only adds to the allure of the tour. Since the town of Corleone was too developed to be used for filming, Francis Ford Coppola opted for Forza d'Agro instead. The Bar Vitelli is there, as is the church where Michael and Apollonia were married. The village on the east side of Sicily provides singularly sweet views across the Mediterranean. But thanks to The Godfather, even this most spectacular of vistas still breathes menace. You can almost hear Clemenza growling, "Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes".
I went into the Vitelli gift shop. Bought an Il Padrinofridge magnet for a friend, and sat on a bench to enjoy the wrap-around Sicilian sunshine.
Soon it was time to head back to the boat. Revenge is a dish best served cold, goes the old Sicilian saying – but when it comes to tacos and burritos, they’re best served piping hot. And that’s what was on the menu on board tonight.
From the sumptuous Atrium restaurant we could see we were underway again, heading south by southeast on a beam reach, running before the wind (that’s all guesswork by the way).
It was Day 3. On board we were living the dream, me and me shipmates – the wind in our hair, the sun on our faces, the innate drama of the Mediterranean seascape sliding by. Like the beautiful mirage Fata Morgana in the Straits of Messina, between Sicily and Italy. It’s an ethereal image of a town in the sky, but it seems more like a fairy landscape. A spectacular sight.
REGRETTABLYwe missed it. There was a music quiz on board, one of the few organised events on the ships calendar. I use the word "organised" in a very loose sense, because this was no sedate pub quiz. These cruises aren't all for the newly-weds or nearly-deads, as one crew member put it. This adrenalin-charged quiz involved running up the deck to ring the ship's bell if you knew the correct answer.
Now, with a heavy swell pitching and rolling the Royal Clipper, the quiz was anyone's to win. But as we had the showbiz, finance and international terrorism correspondent from the Sun on board, we assumed it was in the bag. But the Germans pipped us at the post. The Germans! With one Eurovision win to their credit in 50 years. Mind you, I never knew that before becoming Elvis Presley's agent, Colonel Tom Parker professionally represented a troupe of dancing chickens. They did.
The swell increased, the sea began to get big and sullen, and several lunches turned up again rather unexpectedly. But we intrepid journalists kept on dancing on the main deck – no mean feat in force six northwesterlies. We were going to dance our way to Malta – where a stern-faced Vincent had finally completed his preparations for our visit and was having an early night.
I’d like to have used the old “How do you make a Maltese cross” routine, but in truth Vincent was urbane and good humoured till the end. If only we’d had time, he said, he could have taken us to Bugibba: wonderful beaches, outrageous clubbing and 24-hour gambling. Aaah! If only. The saddest words in the English language – the official lingo of the island as it happens.
We parted amicably on the quayside of the Grand Harbour – used since Phoenician times, mind, for both amicable and less-than-amicable partings.
We then boarded our ship, preparing to see the crew strike the topgallant, unfurl the moonsails, pull up the long rope thingies – for the last time. And for us to meditate on what any cruise motto should be: “The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea.”
Where to go and joining the cruise
Where to go
Palace of the Grandmasters. Republic St, Valletta, Malta, 00-356-2122-1221, president. gov.mt/the_palace_valletta. Built in 1574 as the seat of the Grand Master of the Knights of Malta, it's now home to the Maltese parliament. The armoury houses one of the finest collections of weapons of the period of the Knights of Malta. Spears, swords and shields.
Axel Munthe Museum. Villa San Michele, V le Axel Munthe 34, Capri, 00-39-081-8371401, sanmichele.org. The museum covers the many facets of Axel Munthe's life: his writing, art, his beautiful baritone voice. In order to protect the migratory birds in Capri, then at risk of extermination due to indiscriminate hunting, Munthe decided to buy enough of Capri to provide a protected zone to the migratory birds.
The Valley of Temples. Agrigento, Sicily, on the south coast of Sicily, has some of the finest Greek ruins anywhere, and is one of the most important archaeological sites in Europe. The nearby museum holds thousands of exhibits ranging from pottery to weapons.
Joining the cruise
Star Clippers tour the Mediterranean, Central America and the Caribbean. A five-night Mediterranean sailing costs from €1,237 per person, including breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks, entertainment and all port calls. A seven-night sailing costs from €1,727. Prices are based on two sharing and exclude flights. Star Clippers, 00-44-845-200-6145, starclippers.co.uk.
Mal Rogers was a guest of Star Clippers, starclippers.co.uk