There is a blue so deep it goes beyond indigo, so dark you could be forgiven for thinking it was the night sky. But it is neither late nor celestial. It is the daytime sea between Italy and Greece, not that any country at all can be seen; we are totally out of sight of land! Gliding along, the sea captivates so completely we fail to look up until the forboding hills of Albania are beside us. Even from a distance this country looks as closed as it is reputed to be. We pass by the single road streaking over the brown hills, the single row of power pylons marching towards the single seaside town, the single white-sailed yacht in forbidden-to-us waters. Our ship’s captain favours the Greek coastline, steering clear of Albanian waters.
Land on both sides defies description. Portside layers of brown hills stretch into the distance under bright white cumulous clouds suspended on invisible strings from the blue heaven. Is it the clear air that gives such a great depth to the landscape? The hills look like dominoes stacked one behind the other.
To starboard, the air is just as clear and islands rise up into its freshness. Another colour dominates. Green. The island is completely covered with dark green scrub crouching under dark green trees.
The seven and a half hours float into the sunset.
If only this could last forever.