Viajes en Yate por Sicilia

The week starts at Marina di Milazzo, the working Tyrrhenian port that sits at the top of the Sicilian thumb and acts as the everyday charter base for the Aeolian chain. Captain and chef meet the group at the dock, walk through the yacht, stow the luggage, and cover the chart for the route ahead. Early afternoon to settle in, lunch on board at the quay, then lines off for the twenty-two-nautical-mile run north to Vulcano.

Vulcano is the chain's southernmost inhabited island and the first taste of what makes the Aeolian week different from any other Italian charter. The smell arrives before the anchorage does — sulfur on the breeze a half-mile offshore, drifting from the fumarole field on the island's northeast face. Anchor in Porto di Levante on the island's north shore, the bay tucked under the still-active Gran Cratere volcano cone.

Late-afternoon tender ashore for the mud-bath spring — a natural geothermal pool a five-minute walk from the harbor where guests soak in warm sulfur clay (towel, then a long shower). The fumarole field beside it vents steam from the rock. Back on board for dinner from the chef — the kitchen runs on board most nights this week, except the marquee dinners ashore on Lipari and Panarea. The sulfur smell fades by sunset.

Short hop north this morning — six nautical miles, less than an hour under power — to Lipari, the chain's largest town and the only Aeolian island with a year-round population worth calling a town. The approach reads the way the maps describe it: a Norman castle rising from a basalt acropolis, the medieval citadel walls climbing straight from the harbor, and the working quay below where the morning fish boats land their catch.

Anchor or stern-to at the town quay. The chef provisions at the morning market — swordfish, sardines, capers, the green-skinned local lemons — while the group walks the citadel. The small archaeological museum inside the Norman castle holds the Bronze Age obsidian record of the island: Lipari sat at the center of a Mediterranean-wide obsidian trade three thousand years before Rome, and the volcanic-glass arrowheads recovered from the necropolis are laid out room by room. An hour ashore covers it.

Afternoon at the obsidian beach below Canneto — the black-sand stretch on Lipari's east coast where the volcanic glass washes up against pumice. Swim from the yacht at anchor offshore, then back to town for the evening. Dinner ashore at E Pulera or Filippino — both family-run, both serve the local pasta with sardines and wild fennel that is the dish of the island. Walk back to the boat under the citadel lights.

Lines off late morning for the twelve-nautical-mile passage north to Salina, the only island in the chain green enough to make the rest of the Aeolian look black-and-white by comparison. The wind picks up in the afternoon and the run is a pleasant downwind reach for catamarans and sailing yachts. Two volcanic peaks rise from the center of the island — Monte Fossa delle Felci and Monte dei Porri — and the slopes between them grow the Malvasia delle Lipari grapes and the wild caper bushes that supply most of Italy's caper market.

Anchor in Santa Marina Salina on the east coast. The town walks end to end in fifteen minutes. The captain books either Hotel Signum's terrace dining room or A Cannata in Lingua for dinner — both work the volcanic-island cuisine that this island runs on: caper-and-tomato salad, swordfish involtini, granita di limone with brioche at breakfast the next morning. The wine is the local Malvasia, the sweet dessert version from grapes dried in the volcanic-soil vineyards above town.

Afternoon excursion ashore by tender and rental car to the Malfa estates above town — the small family-run caper farms and Malvasia vineyards that the chef has visited that morning. A short tasting at one of them is the right shape for the late afternoon. Back to the yacht for the swim platform before sunset; the bay reflects gold off the volcanic cones at evening light. Salina nights are the quietest of the week.

Late-morning run east to Panarea — ten nautical miles across the chain's central pool, the only Aeolian island with no cars and no roads worth the name, only stone footpaths and golf carts. The pastel-house village rises from the harbor; the volcanic cone behind it is dormant, the eastern shore is a string of small swim coves reached by tender, and the late-afternoon scene at Hotel Raya is the polished side of an Aeolian week.

Anchor off San Pietro, the main village on Panarea's eastern shore. The harbor is small and yachts sit on the hook with the swim platform open for the afternoon. Tender ashore for an early evening passeggiata — the village square, the small white-washed church, the two or three shops that stay open through the summer. Hotel Raya's open-air terrace catches sunset and is the right register for an aperitivo before dinner; the captain calls ahead to confirm a table.

Dinner ashore at the harbor — Hyccara on the rocks, Da Francesco on the quay, or the Raya dining room if the booking holds. The yacht stays at anchor through the night. The far horizon to the north holds Stromboli's silhouette, fifteen miles across the water, and the smoke from the active crater is visible at sunset on a clear evening. Tomorrow is the marquee.

Twelve nautical miles north this morning to Stromboli — the chain's volcanic icon, in continuous eruption for at least two thousand years, and the most reliable active-volcano viewing anchorage in the Mediterranean. The approach reads the way every photograph of the island shows it: a near-perfect cone rising straight from the sea, a thin white plume from the summit crater, and on a clear afternoon the dark scar of the Sciara del Fuoco — the lava-shoot face on the northwest slope — visible from miles offshore.

Anchor late morning at Ginostra on the southwest side — the smallest inhabited village in Italy, no road access, reachable only by sea, a single cluster of white houses around a tiny harbor. Lunch on board, then a tender ashore for the village walk: the lighthouse path, the one restaurant that opens for boat-guests at midday, the path through whitewashed alleys where the residents still draw drinking water from the cistern. Back to the yacht for the swim platform; the water off Ginostra runs deep clean blue under the cliff.

Late afternoon the captain repositions the yacht five miles north and anchors off the Sciara del Fuoco — the active-eruption viewing position. The first explosions are usually audible before they are visible. By full dark the show is at full volume: orange lava arcs against the black sky, the ash plume catching moonlight, the cycle repeating every twelve to twenty minutes through the night. Dinner on board on the aft deck with the volcano in the frame. Nobody on the boat sleeps until late.

Twenty-two nautical miles southwest this morning to Filicudi, the second-most-remote Aeolian island and the right register for a quiet day after the Stromboli marquee. Filicudi has roughly two hundred year-round residents, one paved road, no cars worth the name, and a coastline of grottoes, basalt sea-stacks, and small swim coves reachable only by tender or by yacht.

Anchor at Pecorini a Mare on the south coast — the small fishing-village quay where the day boats land. Lunch ashore at La Sirena, the family-run trattoria a hundred meters from the dock that has worked the same fish for three generations. The afternoon is for the grotto coast on the island's west side: tender excursion to the Grotta del Bue Marino, the sea-cave on the western cliff where the light turns the water electric blue at midday, and the basalt sea-stack of La Canna offshore — a single vertical pillar rising eighty-five meters out of deep water.

Back to the anchorage at Pecorini for the evening. Dinner on board on the swim platform — the chef puts together what the morning market in Lipari produced, the wine is the Malvasia from Salina, and the only sounds are the swell against the hull and the small village above. The bench-depth alternative is to push further to Alicudi for the night, the chain's most remote island; the captain calls which fits the group.

Last morning at anchor in Pecorini. Breakfast on the aft deck — granita di limone with brioche, espresso, the swim platform open for one more dive. The captain repositions to the south side of the island for the southbound run back to Sicily — thirty nautical miles to Marina di Milazzo, about three and a half hours under power with the chain falling behind the stern.

Midday repositioning takes the yacht across one of the cleanest stretches of Tyrrhenian water in the Mediterranean. The chef puts together a final lunch from what is left of the Lipari market provisions — pasta with the wild capers from Salina, swordfish from the morning boat, a glass of Malvasia. Stromboli is visible to the north on a clear day. By mid-afternoon the cone of Mount Etna shows up on the southern horizon, dominating the Sicilian coast.

Berth at Marina di Milazzo by late afternoon. Last night aboard with the marina open behind the boat — dinner ashore at the Milazzo waterfront for guests who want a final town walk, or one more chef's table on the aft deck. Saturday morning is the disembark — gratuity envelope to the captain (Mediterranean standard ten to fifteen percent of base, split among the crew), fifty minutes by car to Catania (CTA) or just over an hour to Palermo (PMO). The broker coordinates any pre- or post-charter nights ashore — Belmond Grand Hotel Timeo on Taormina's cliff for the eastward extension, Villa Igiea on Palermo's waterfront for the western.

The week starts at Marina Villa Igea on Palermo's waterfront — thirty-five minutes from Palermo (PMO) airport, ten minutes from the old city. The marina sits at the foot of the namesake Liberty-style Villa Igiea, the 1900 hotel that anchors the harbor and remains one of Palermo's two grand-hotel addresses. Captain and chef meet on the dock, walk through the yacht, stow the luggage, cover the chart.

Late afternoon, lines off for the short six-nautical-mile run to Mondello Bay on the north side of Monte Pellegrino. Mondello is Palermo's local beach village — pastel houses along a curved bay, a Belle Époque white-iron bath-house pavilion on stilts in the middle of the water, a small fleet of fishing boats anchored against the shore. Anchor in the bay for the late afternoon swim platform.

Tender ashore for an early evening at Mondello village — the open-air market on the waterfront, the gelato shops on Piazza Mondello, and dinner at Bye Bye Blues or Charleston Mondello for guests who want a real Sicilian dinner on the first night. Back to the yacht for the night at anchor. The Palermo skyline holds the southern horizon; the city's lights are visible across Monte Pellegrino once dark settles in.

Long passage today — thirty-five nautical miles north into the Tyrrhenian to Ustica, the volcanic island that sits alone offshore from the Sicilian mainland and was the first marine reserve established in Italian waters. Early start under sail or power; the run takes about five hours on a sailing catamaran with the prevailing westerlies on the beam, three on a motor yacht. The island appears as a single dark volcanic cone rising from open water — no other land visible in any direction.

Anchor in Cala Santa Maria on the south coast, the harbor side of the island. The water clarity off Ustica is the cleanest in the western Mediterranean — sixty to eighty feet of visibility on a settled day, no commercial fishing inside the reserve since 1986, and the rock walls of the marine reserve drop straight into deep water with the volcanic substrate covered in seagrass and red coral. Snorkel directly off the swim platform; the rare reef fish that have disappeared from the rest of the Tyrrhenian still live here.

Late afternoon tender ashore for the small village above the harbor — one piazza, two bars, a handful of fishing-boat restaurants. Dinner ashore at Ristorante Giulia or Da Umberto — both serve the local lobster (slipper lobster, smaller and sweeter than spiny lobster), grown in the protected reserve waters. The captain books the table. Back to the yacht for the night at anchor under the island's volcanic ridge.

Longest passage of the week — fifty-five nautical miles southwest from Ustica to Trapani along the western Sicilian coast. The route passes Capo San Vito at the tip of Sicily's western thumb and the long Saline di Trapani salt-pans north of the city — a working salt-evaporation field that has produced sea salt continuously since the Phoenicians established the operation here twenty-five hundred years ago. The pyramidal salt piles and the small windmills still in use are visible from the water.

Berth at the Trapani waterfront late afternoon. The captain books a car for the half-hour drive up to Erice — the medieval town built on a Norman fortress site eight hundred meters above the coast, with the Castello di Venere on the summit and stone streets cooled by sea breeze even in August. An hour ashore covers the town; dinner at La Pentolaccia or Monte San Giuliano inside the Erice walls, both serving Sicilian-mountain cuisine that is meaningfully different from the coastal register: lamb, wild fennel, semolina cakes baked in wood-fired ovens.

Back down to the yacht at Trapani for the night. The Trapani fish market opens at dawn on the waterfront a hundred meters from the yacht; the chef walks over in the early morning for the red prawns and the tuna belly that the city's restaurants build their menus around. Trapani is the western port that the rest of Sicily flows through and the cleanest morning provisioning stop on the route.

Short ten-nautical-mile crossing this morning to Favignana, the largest of the three Egadi Islands and the marquee Egadi day. The island shape on the chart is a butterfly — two lobes of low limestone joined by a thin isthmus — and the eastern coast holds the abandoned tufa-stone quarries that supplied the building blocks for half of Sicily's old cities. The quarries were active from the seventeenth century into the early twentieth and were then abandoned and flooded by sea-level rise.

Anchor at Cala Rossa on the northeast coast — the largest of the flooded quarries and the marquee anchorage. Vertical white-rock walls drop twenty meters into turquoise water on three sides; the swim is direct off the swim platform. The water is shallower than it looks from the surface and the bottom is white sand reflecting back up through the column — the color is closer to a Bahamian sandbar than to a Mediterranean cove. Most of the day at anchor here.

Late afternoon repositioning to the Favignana town quay for the evening. The town walks the waterfront end to end in twenty minutes. Dinner ashore at La Bettola or Il Buongustaio — both serve the local Mattanza tuna and the caper-and-tomato salad that is the Egadi version of Sicilian summer. The Florio family tonnara — the historic tuna-trap factory on the waterfront — is now a museum and worth thirty minutes ashore before dinner. Night at anchor or stern-to at the town quay.

Short morning run to Levanzo, the smallest of the three Egadi Islands and the only one with a Paleolithic-era cave-painting site. Anchor in Cala Dogana, the small harbor on the south coast, then tender ashore for the morning walk to the Grotta del Genovese — the limestone sea-cave on the island's north coast where prehistoric rock art has been preserved for ten thousand years. The cave is reached by a guided land walk; the captain books the visit a day in advance.

Lunch on board at anchor in Cala Minnola off Levanzo's south coast — the cleanest swim cove in the Egadi, pine trees coming down to the water, a small Roman shipwreck visible on the seabed. Then a twelve-nautical-mile run southwest to Marettimo, the smallest and most remote of the three islands. The shape on the chart shows it: a single steep ridge rising out of the sea, no flat ground worth the name, and the western coast a string of vertical cliffs broken by sea-caves.

Anchor at Marettimo town on the east coast — the only inhabited part of the island, about three hundred year-round residents, the harbor village built around a single piazza and a row of fishing-boat houses. Dinner ashore at Il Veliero or Da Lia — both family-run, both serve what the morning boat brought in. Late-evening tender excursion around the western cliffs to the Grotta del Cammello and the Grotta del Tuono — sea-caves only reachable by water, the cleanest of the Egadi grottoes.

Thirty-nautical-mile northeast run this morning back toward the Sicilian mainland and the long crescent bay of Castellammare del Golfo — the Gulf of Castellammare, three peninsulas wide, with the medieval town of Castellammare on the south shore and the Zingaro Nature Reserve on the western headland. Anchor off the town or stern-to at the marina; the captain calls based on the swell and the harbor traffic.

Midday excursion ashore by car to Segesta — the Doric Greek temple from the fifth century BC that stands alone on a hilltop above the surrounding hills, no town around it, no other ruins visible from the temple platform. The structure is unfinished — the column flutes were never carved and the roof was never built — but the architecture is otherwise as clean a fifth-century-BC temple as Sicily has. The Greek theatre on the adjacent ridge dates from the same period; both are walkable on the half-day ashore.

Back to the yacht for the late afternoon swim in the bay — the Zingaro Reserve coves on the western headland are the cleanest swim coves on this stretch of mainland Sicily, reached by tender from anchor. Dinner ashore at La Forchetta on the Castellammare waterfront or Trattoria del Pescatore on the harbor — both serve the local fish soup and the Sicilian-style swordfish involtini that the town's restaurants build menus around. Night at anchor or marina.

Last full day on the water. Morning run east along the coast — thirty nautical miles back to Palermo, about four hours under power past Capo San Vito and the long Saline di Trapani salt-pans the route passed outbound on Day 3. The captain repositions the yacht to Marina Villa Igea by early afternoon; the marina sits at the foot of Villa Igiea hotel on Palermo's working waterfront.

Afternoon ashore in Palermo — the half-day that gives the route's cultural anchor. The Norman Palace (Palazzo dei Normanni) on the inland edge of the old city holds the Cappella Palatina, the twelfth-century chapel decorated by Arab artisans for Roger II of Sicily: gold mosaic ceilings, Arab geometric inlay in the wooden ceiling vaulting, Byzantine wall mosaics depicting Old Testament scenes from floor to apse. An hour inside is enough; a walk through the surrounding old city covers the Quattro Canti, the Pretoria Fountain, and the Cathedral on the way back to the marina.

Last night aboard at Marina Villa Igea. Dinner on the aft deck with the city lights across the harbor, or ashore at the Villa Igiea hotel terrace — the Belle Époque restaurant where Palermo's old families still eat. Saturday morning is the disembark — gratuity envelope to the captain (Mediterranean standard ten to fifteen percent of base, split among the crew), thirty-five minutes by car to Palermo (PMO) airport. The broker coordinates any pre- or post-charter ashore — the Villa Igiea hotel for the post-charter night, the Casa Florio outside the old city, or the cliff-top Belmond Villa Sant'Andrea on Taormina for guests routing east before flying home.

The week starts at Marina dell'Etna at Catania — fifteen minutes from Catania (CTA) airport on the Ionian coast, the working east-coast Sicilian port that anchors the embarkation logistics. Captain and chef meet on the dock, walk through the yacht, stow the luggage, cover the chart for the route ahead. The afternoon is for settling in; lunch on board at the quay; lines off mid-afternoon for the thirty-nautical-mile run north to Taormina.

The approach to Taormina reads the way the photographs show it. The town sits on a cliff platform two hundred meters above the sea, the small offshore island of Isola Bella forms a thin causeway in the bay below, and on a clear afternoon Mount Etna's cone fills the inland horizon with a steady plume of volcanic steam. Anchor in Mazzaro Bay on the north side of Isola Bella; the yacht sits in the shadow of the cliff platform with the Greek-Roman amphitheatre visible directly above.

Late afternoon tender ashore for the cable car up to the town. An hour at the Teatro Antico — the third-century-BC Greek theatre rebuilt by the Romans, with the cliff drop and the Etna view framing the stage opening — and dinner ashore at the Belmond Grand Hotel Timeo terrace or Osteria Nero D'Avola in town. Both look out over the bay where the yacht sits. Back down by cable car under cable-car lights; night at anchor in Mazzaro. Etna's volcanic glow is faintly visible to the north after full dark on the right night.

Long offshore passage today — fifty nautical miles northwest from Taormina across the Strait of Messina and into the southern Tyrrhenian, the longest open-water leg of the week. Early start under power; the run takes about four hours on a motor yacht holding fifteen knots. The Sicilian coast falls behind the stern through the morning; the Aeolian chain rises ahead by late morning. Stromboli's cone is visible from twenty miles out on a clear day.

Mid-day anchor at Ginostra on the southwest side of the island — the smallest inhabited village in Italy, no road access, reachable only by sea, a single cluster of white houses around a tiny harbor. Lunch on board; tender ashore for the village walk: the lighthouse path, the one restaurant that opens at midday for boat-guests, the whitewashed alleys above the harbor. Swim platform open through the early afternoon under the cliff.

Late afternoon the captain repositions five nautical miles north and anchors off the Sciara del Fuoco — the lava-shoot face on the northwest slope, the position from which the active crater faces the sea. The first explosions are usually audible before they are visible. By full dark the show is at full volume: orange lava arcs against the black sky, the ash plume catching moonlight, the cycle repeating every twelve to twenty minutes through the night. Dinner on the aft deck with the volcano in the frame. Nobody on the boat sleeps until late.

Short morning hop south — twelve nautical miles, an hour under power — to Panarea, the chain's chic island and the polished side of an Aeolian week. The yacht arrives by late morning at the pastel-house village of San Pietro on the eastern shore. No cars on the island, no roads worth the name, only stone footpaths and golf carts; the volcanic cone behind the village is dormant; the eastern shore is a string of small swim coves reached by tender.

Anchor off San Pietro. Lunch on board at anchor or tender ashore to the village quay for a light lunch at Da Francesco or Hyccara on the rocks. The afternoon is for the small coves on the island's east side — Cala Junco, Cala dei Zimmari — reached by tender from the anchorage, the cleanest swim coves in the Aeolian chain. The water is clear enough to see the volcanic sand bottom in six meters.

Late afternoon ashore for the village passeggiata. Hotel Raya's open-air terrace catches sunset and is the polished aperitivo register; the captain books ahead. Dinner ashore at Hyccara, Da Francesco, or the Raya dining room. The yacht stays at anchor through the night. Stromboli's silhouette is visible to the north fifteen miles off and the smoke from the active crater is faintly visible at sunset against the orange sky.

Two-island day. Lines off mid-morning for the short eight-nautical-mile run west to Salina — the only green island in the Aeolian chain, the one with enough soil to grow grapes and capers. Anchor in Santa Marina Salina for a short morning ashore at one of the Malvasia estates above the town; the chef arranges the visit a day in advance. A quick walk through the small terraced vineyards above the bay, a tasting of the dessert wine, and the wild capers from the surrounding bushes — the actual Salina capers the rest of Italy imports.

Lunch on board at anchor or ashore at A Cannata in Lingua on Salina's south coast — the small family-run trattoria that serves caper-and-tomato salad, swordfish involtini, and the granita di limone with brioche that is the island's breakfast register. Afternoon run south — seven nautical miles to Lipari, the chain's largest town and the cleanest morning-market stop of the route.

Anchor or stern-to at the Lipari town quay. The chef provisions for the rest of the week at the morning market the next day. Walk the Norman castle on the acropolis — the small archaeological museum inside covers the Bronze Age obsidian trade that put Lipari at the center of the Mediterranean three thousand years before Rome. Dinner ashore at E Pulera or Filippino — pasta with sardines and wild fennel, the dish of the island. Night at the quay; the citadel lights stay on past midnight.

Long passage today — fifty nautical miles southwest from Lipari to Cefalù on the Sicilian north coast. The Aeolian chain falls behind the stern through the morning; the Madonie mountains of mainland Sicily rise ahead by mid-afternoon. The run takes about four hours on a motor yacht. The captain monitors the Tyrrhenian sea-state through the day; the leg is comfortable in summer.

Anchor or stern-to at the Cefalù waterfront late afternoon. The town sits at the foot of a vertical limestone headland called La Rocca, and the Norman cathedral built in the twelfth century rises from the medieval old city against the rock backdrop. An hour ashore covers the cathedral — the Christ Pantocrator mosaic in the apse is one of the finest twelfth-century Byzantine-style works in the Mediterranean, the cloister beside it is small and quiet, and the surrounding old city walks in fifteen minutes.

Dinner ashore at Lo Scoglio Ubriaco or La Botte — both on the waterfront, both serving the local pasta with anchovies and sardines that is the dish of the north coast. Night at anchor or quay. The Madonie mountains hold the southern horizon; the cathedral bell tower marks the town's center against the rock face above.

Last full day on the water — thirty-five nautical miles west from Cefalù to Palermo with a long midday stop at Mondello in between. Lines off after breakfast for the four-hour run; the captain repositions the yacht to Mondello Bay by early afternoon. Anchor in the bay for the swim platform — Mondello is Palermo's local beach village, the white-iron Belle Époque bath-house pavilion sits on stilts mid-bay, and the bay is the cleanest swim cove inside Palermo's metropolitan reach.

Lunch on board at anchor in Mondello; afternoon ashore at the gelato shops on Piazza Mondello or the working market on the waterfront. Late afternoon the captain repositions six nautical miles east around Monte Pellegrino to Marina Villa Igea on Palermo's working waterfront — the marina sits at the foot of the namesake Liberty-style Villa Igiea hotel, thirty-five minutes from PMO airport and ten minutes from the old city.

Dinner ashore at the Villa Igiea hotel terrace or in the old city. Quattro Mani in the Vucciria district and Bisso Bistrot off Piazza Bellini both work the Palermitan street-food register at a sit-down level — pasta con le sarde, sfincione, panelle, the local marsala-glazed sweetbreads. Night at the marina. Tomorrow's the Norman Palace and the disembark.

Last morning on the route. Breakfast on the aft deck at Marina Villa Igea; the marina opens straight onto Palermo's working waterfront and the city's old town walks twenty minutes inland from the dock. The captain organizes the half-day ashore — the Norman Palace and the Cappella Palatina are the cultural anchor of the week and the closing scene the route is built around.

Inside the Palazzo dei Normanni on the western edge of the old city, the Cappella Palatina is the twelfth-century chapel decorated by Arab artisans for Roger II of Sicily. The ceiling is gilded muqarnas — the Arab geometric inlay normally found in mosques — set inside Norman pointed-arch vaulting. The wall mosaics are Byzantine-style — Old Testament scenes from floor to apse, Christ Pantocrator in the apse half-dome. An hour inside covers it. The Cathedral on the way back to the marina holds the tomb of the Hohenstaufen emperor Frederick II.

Last lunch on board at Marina Villa Igea, or ashore at the Villa Igiea hotel terrace for guests who want the Belle Époque close. Disembark mid-afternoon — gratuity envelope to the captain (Mediterranean standard ten to fifteen percent of base, split among the crew), thirty-five minutes by car to Palermo (PMO) airport. The broker coordinates pre- or post-charter ashore — the Villa Igiea hotel for the final night, the cliff-top Belmond Villa Sant'Andrea on Taormina for guests routing east before flying home, or a short overnight in Cefalù for the cathedral mosaic at sunrise.