By hiking he meant 8 miles up and down the hilly shoreline.

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Elba Bay 1718

Some things you just don't get to see from SeaRey altitudes. Hiking the shoreline we came across a clothing optional beach. Based on the scenery I couldn't wait to get back to flying.

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Clothing Optional 1732

It wasn't all tough tramping. There were cafes along the waterfront. That's where I proved useful by having enough local currency to purchase the guests' gelato.

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Cafe View 1722

It would have been great to see Roman ruins along the coast, but we settled for old fascist fortifications.

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Coastal Fortification 1726

Can you lose track of the guests in a cave? It was a concern. Fortunately I had Monica along to help herd them.

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Caving 1727

Finally back in civilization! Except we were in the wrong place. There was no SuRi in sight. Fortunately they were within radio range and quickly recovered.

The problem with being in the wrong location was there was no dock for the tender. Well, there was a dock, it was just that the top was falling in. Someone at the nearby hotel must have noted my forlorn look. Two beach attendants came over with heavy ramps they laid across the fallen sections. Ten minutes later we had a suitable dock. I left them both a hefty tip for saving what little was left of my tattered guiding reputation.

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Playcraft 1723

Old SeaRey pilots should get a nap after an eight hour hike. It was not an option. When SuRi arrived, the water was beautiful. The fed and rested guests couldn't wait to fly.

Elba was a great place to aviate. There were ruins up on the hills. Not far away was the fort Napoleon occupied when he was banished there. In the adjoining harbor there were three mast sailing ships. Strangely, the rigging was fully occupied by white suited sailors. Several modern military vessels were in attendance. Two heavy military helicopters hovered nearby. Caribinieri swarmed the surrounding waters. In the middle of it all a heavily decorated barge full of VIP toured the harbor fleet.

TFR? I hastily called the local flight service. No flight restrictions. It was just graduation ceremonies for the latest class of Italian sailors.

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Last Light Flight 1743

That's a pretty spectacular photograph Dan. Better than a nap. Thanks.

I must have missed something along the route or translation; who's the fed?

It's the guests who had eaten, Frank. They fed, then they flew. (In this case "fed" = Italian for lots of food eaten.)

Oops. Sorry. Guess I used up my One Dumb Question.

Not dumb at all, Frank. "Fed" is a deceptively complex and ambiguous word, particularly if you in Italy. I'll try to be more careful in the future.

"Old Searey pilots"? Pfff! Call back when you qualify for the UFO. http://ufopilots.org/

I'm told it's not the number of years, it's the mileage that counts. After tramping up and down hill and dale I felt like 90 (at least until I was told I could fly...that made me feel like ten again!).

👍

The guests cued up to completely fill out what remained of the day with nonstop flights. With a full dance card of formal flying there was no time to photograph the lovely island or military ceremonies. Sigh.

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Sublime Setting 7168

Sublime, indeed!

The new day found SuRi at sea, heading back to the mainland.

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Breaking Day 7187

Still out at sea it wasn't looking great for SeaRey operations.

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Sailing into Genoa 1759

A port that launched Christopher Columbus should favor a little seaplane. There was hope. Operations were authorized as long as I departed 1 km from shore and avoided sensitive areas.

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Port of Genoa 7201

Unfortunately the water 1 km out was unsuitable for SeaReys. Once again I pressed into service as a mobile waterboy.

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Portofino Point 1763

It was to be another hike. We took the Intrepid into Portofino for our tramp.

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Downtown Boating 1783

Of course the hike was uphill. Steeply uphill

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Going Upstairs 1788

At least the higher scenery provided a semblance of what might have been seen by SeaRey.

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Fancy Shores 1800

A lovely hotel offered a brief respite from the hiking. Not enough, though. The owner's wife began to flag behind the rapidly retreating mass of SuRi guests.

It was a dilemma. My job was to keep up with owner. To have water for the guests. To have cash for gelato. To have communication with the boat. I wasn't briefed on what to do with a flagging first lady.

Without guidance I opted to stay with the lonely lady. We wandered slowly back down hill to the port. I don't know if it was the right choice, but it was the last time I was asked to herd guests.

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Albergo Splendido 1804

The lonely lady wasn't Monica, was it?

No, it was the lady of the boat (i.e. the owner's wife).

The following day dawned dramatically with storms.

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Storms at Sea 7209

Having been relieved of waterboy duties all I could do was watch the waves and wait for the storms to subside. At least the sailboats were having fun.

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Watching Genoa 7223

The end of the voyage was rapidly approaching. When panic at it ending set in, the seas looked a lot flatter and the storms calmer.

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Unlikely Launch 1827

Panic over not flying was overtaken by terror over launching in rough water and thunderstorms. Prudence won out and I went back aboard.

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Not Flying 1828

Wonderful, thanks Dan. Love the Med!

Prudence plays a mean game, but she always wins one way or another. Those are troubled waters. And the sky...

Greece or Israel in the plans, Dan?

Not for SuRi, Steve. She's headed south. To Patagonia.

Patagonia! ¡Estupendo!