1-8 oktober 2018

På hotell Kaptein Stavros i Nidri fant vi mor, Christopher og Sissel nylig ankommet med buss fra Preveza flyplass etter en grytidlig start fra Oslo. Vi tok turen ned til båten. Mor går planken fra første stund.

Heltene trengte både mat og drikke

Fin utsikt fra balkongen på hotellrommet

Tirsdag morgen etter frokost og morgengym på balkongen la vi ut på tur i god vind, opp mot 20 knop

Vi la til ved bryggen i Spartachori på øyen Meganisi og tok stien opp til den gamle byen på toppen


Belønningen var både lunch med stifado (biffstuing med små sylteløk) - og flott utsikt over både middelhavet og båten vår ved flytebryggen til høyre.

Onsdag var det meldt mye vind og dårlig vær og dagen var både grå og kald så vi leide bil og utforsket øya Lefkada. Bratte bakker, krappe nålsvinger og slank asfaltbane. Her en blid geitekone med sin flokk. Det står ikke helt klart for meg hvordan det ville gått om vi hadde møtt andre motorister i motbakkene og svingene, men vår uanfektede sjåfør Christopher tok det hele med gusto og knusende ro.

Vi kjørte til Karya hvor vi inntok kaffe og en slags Napoleonskakebit

Så klatret vi opp til et lite privat folkemuseum hvor vi ble vist rundt av sønnen til barnebarnet til en av elevene til damen som started syskolen i landsbyen. Hun utviklet en unik broderistil. Kattene vakte også interesse.


Museet hadde en stor samling antikviteter og ga innblikk i hvordan folk levde i landsbyene i Hellas på 1700 tallet. Mørke inventarer.

I den sjarmerende fjellandsbyen Egalouvi drakk vi god kaffe under store vakre gamle trær og spiste medbragte oste- og spinatpaier, og lurte nok en gang på hvorfor trestammene males hvite nederst.

Kalkmaling mot insekter viste det seg etter at jeg rådførte meg med Google.

På toppen av Lefkada fant vi både en kirke og panoramautsikt



Turen tilbake gikk vest og sør. Vi stoppet i Vassiliki på sørsiden og ruslet litt rundt i havnen i regnet. Vel tilbake i Nidri spiste vi pasta med tomatsaus ombord i båten før vi tok kvelden.

Torsdag morgen kom godværet som forventet og vi la avsted sørover mot Vathi på øya Ithaka, 20 nm, 4 timers seiltur. Vakker ankomst.


I Vathi var det varmt. Vi fant fram hengekøyen

Og syklene

Vi tok turen til den lille badestranden ved pinjene. Chris og Sissel syklet litt rundt og fant et hotell mens mor og jeg begynte å gå men etterhvert fikk vi skyss av Paul i jollen.



Ca 22 grader i vannet, herlig. Vi fikk gjort litt yoga og Sissel underviste i noen dansestrekk i solen på stranden etter badet.

Fiskemiddag ble inntatt på en restaurant ved havnen like ved hotellet Christopher og Sissel tok inn på.

Odysseus var dramatisk i nattmørket rett ved der vi lå. Han vokter over mors første overnatting i båten, just som han våket over henne mens hun sov i sin mors mage. Bestefar hadde lest Odysseen for sin gravide hustru mens mor var på vei. Nå som den gang gikk det greit. Odysseus våket mens mor sov.

Sissel gikk en tur neste morgen og tok noen flotte bilder fra Vathi



Fra Vathi seilte vi nordover til Kioni. Etter lunch ombord fulgte vi Chris og Sissel bortover veien til Avrili Apartments som vi hadde bestilt samme morgen. Kioni er billedskjønt.

En fin tur bortover veien

Avrili Apartments viste seg å være 'Room with a View' i stor stil. Muligens den flotteste utsikt som kan bestilles på nettet uten å vite noe om det.


Fin tur tilbake langs vannet.

Middag på båten, karri med aubergine og søtpotet og hjemmelaget tsatsiki. Vi drakk varm kakao med brandy på 'Lizzie's' etterpå - siste åpningsdag denne sesongen.

Om natten blåste det opp. Båtene som lå ubeskyttet til på den andre siden av bukten kjørte berg og dalbane i bølgene. Glad for at vi hadde kommet fram tidsnok til å få plass på kaien.

Etter frokost og litt handling i bokbutikken i Kioni satte vi seil mot Kalamos. Odysseus figurerte på turen

Var litt spente på hvor mye sjø og vind vi ville få, men med vinden bakfra og flat sjø gikk det greit unna. Vi kastet anker i en bukt på Kalamos og badet fra båten.


Kalamos var et nytt sted for oss alle. Mer landlig og mindre turist orientert.

Paul og mor gikk en turn for å se etter postkort. Ingen å finne på hele øyen men de fant noen rare butikker, opptil flere bakerier, og en fin kirke hvor presten inviterte dem inn og snakket gresk til dem.

Sissel og Christopher møtte en høne.

Alt kan brukes til planter når det bare kan males blått, både metalltrommer og bildekk.

Neste morgen gikk turen til Nidri via et opphold i Little Vathi på øyen Meganisi. Vi spiste litt lunch og vandret en tur.


Granateplene modner på trærne i bakhagene

Fin tur tilbake fra Vathi til Nidri

Rosa tordenskyer i kveldshimmelen

Hvor har vi vært? Vi orienterer oss.

The Last Supper - pasta med kylling ombord i båten.

Mandag kveld gikk flyet men Sissel og Christopher syklet til den flotte fossen i Nidri - 'katarakten', mens mor og jeg ruslet litt, fant noen postkort og drakk en appelsinjuice utenfor bakeriet. Der parkerte en mann sykkelen sin med denne lille medbragte i kurven.

Etterpå spiste vi niste på balkongen på hotellet og pratet om hint og annet, mens Chris og Sissel tok en siste dupp i bassenget før bussen kom og kjørte dem og mor avsted mot nordligere breddegrader.

Takk for turen!
Og spesiell takk til vår talentfulle fotograf Sissel.

4th - 17th Sept

Having dropped Finn and Millie in Poros we set off for Vathi on Ithaca where we spent two nights, one at anchor in a rough sea with a strong north westerly, and the next on the east side of the quay the next morning for another night. We set off for a cycle ride and found a gem of a sandy beach past the pines on the west side of the bay, stopping for a bite en route at the taverna at the little harbour.

From Vathi we went northeast to the island of Kastos, a good crossing in quite a breeze.

In Kastos we found a place inside the mole at the outside of the harbour, with these beautiful rocky surrounds

In the neighbouring boat was Paul the biochemist from Cardiff who came across 380 Euros in notes on the sea bed whilst diving for something he had dropped overboard. Note to self: Must check seabed for treasure more often. Kastos is a tiny but charming place, the mole is a great spot for swimmming and views lovely

We stayed a couple of nights and then headed for Nikiana on Lefkas, a quiet place where we were next to Australian Lawrence who was doing up his own boat, a deep sea diver, interesting to talk to. Beautiful sunset...

And so to Preveza to meet Steve and Bibi on Sunday afternoon. The quay was full so we found a spot marked 'Fishing Boats!'. After a few drinks and a meal Steve and Bibi settled into our rear cabin. Only slightly disturbed by the local fishermen arriving at dawn either side of our boat, to sell their catch on the quay.

We set off on our journey northwards in light winds.

Crossing to the mainland we dropped anchor in Two Rock Bay where we swam ashore, explored the large cave and the white pebble beach and had dinner on board.

Tuesday we planned to travel up the River Acheron, one of the mythical waterways of Hell. The approach was less imposing than expected

The nearby rocks were more suggestive of the gates of the underworld

We headed for Parga and found a place in the tiny harbour on a tall mole, quite a steep climb getting off the boat and a challenge not tripping on all the fishing gear lying about. After a long walk weaving our way through the sun loungers to town we had a refreshments at the castle, with spectacular views

We wandered around the fortifications perched precipitously above the harbour.

Parga specialises in Happy Hour. Here we are enjoying a very enjoyable pre-dinner second round of Mojitos.

Along with a number of other yachtsmen we paid the ferry man to return us to our boats. From him we learned that British men need to get better at helping their wives!

Wednesday took us to Monganisi, a bay on the south of Paxos.

Bibi and I enjoyed a shower in the facilities ashore and we had a meal ashore.

It was a short journey Thursday morning to Gaios on Paxos, also a beautiful place where we found a place on the quay with a pleasant cafe off the gangplank. Our quiet little spot metamorphosed into nightlife central though later in the evening.

Friday night we anchored in the bay of Lakka where we took the dinghy in and were assisted out of it by an old gent.

Next stop the sleepy hollow of Petriti on Corfu. We went swimming on the little public beach with a showerhead on the end of a standing pipe and tried out a couple of places for mojitos before dinner of chickpea curry onboard.

Sunday we headed for Corfu island, we went swimming at anchor and did some human towing

and practiced diving off the coach roof, aided by expletives.

Approaching Corfu the old town appeared dwarfed by this monster superyacht with its rather futuristic design. A prop for the next James Bond villain perhaps? It turned out to have been commissioned and built for a Russian oligarch, a man younger than us who made his fortune in coal and fertilisers.

Mandraki harbour in Corfu however may be the most beautiful harbour we have visited on our whole journey, nestled as it is within the walls of the old town walls.

Not only beautiful but also functional, with showers for the boat owners, a small beach and some nice restaurants.

The castle now houses the university music department so piano music and the dulcet tones of a soprano drifted past as we walked past into town.


Over a coffee overlooking a game of cricket (Corfu was British after all) we discovered that the Museum of Asian Art was 2 minutes away, with exhibits showing the influence of Greece on Buddhist art. Synchronously Steve was reading a book titled 'The Greek Buddha'. The influence of Greece in India started in 326 BC when Alexander the Great led his troops all the way to the Indus River. From 280 BC Greek kingdoms were created in northern Punjab. In 100-80 BC the Greek king Menander was taught the Buddhist faith. He founded a Greco-Indian Kingdom and used coins with bilingual inscriptions in Greek and Hindi. From the 1st to the 5th century AD in the workshops of Gandhara, statues of Buddha and Boddhisattvas (Buddhist saints) were made.

These figures are often modelled on Apollo or Dionysus, with a Greek nose and Greek hairstyle with undulated hair tied on the top of the head in a bun. These characteristics are mixed with features of Asian sculptural tradition, such as protruding eyes and cheekbones.

There was also this beautiful example of Japanese kintsugi, with the cracks in the ceramic are mended in gold.

Kintsugi echoes the Japanese philosophy of embracing the flawed or imperfect. Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, the cracks are literally illuminated, highlighting the uncertainty and vicissitudes of life. 'The wound is the place where the Light enters' as Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet writes...

And so farewell to Steve and Bibi who set off in a taxi for the airport that evening.

Monday we motored south, stopping for the night in the bay of Agios Ionnais on the mainland just southeast of Parga, a nice spot. From there we reached Lefkas on Tuesday, mooring alongside the canal on the north side of the bridge. Paul cycled to town and did some provisioning, and we had dinner in our favourite Taverna Vino in Lefkas. Wednesday morning we made the short hop south to Nidri where we met Sandy and Nick off the ferry from Fiscardo.

16th August - 3rd September

Where were we...? Ah yes, Tinos! Finally we broke free of our landlock, with little time to spare to make it over to Athens for Finn and Millie's arrival.

The wind dropped to rather more manageable a few miles out to sea and after a short breakfast break in Ormos Grammata on the island of Sirros we sailed on to the bay of Kolona on the west side of Kythnos, 45 miles all told and a good day's sailing after so many nights on the quay. A rocky night however as we were open anchored in a bay open to the shipping lanes, but favourable winds again the next day on our route towards Kea.

After a night in Caundouros bay, a touristy spot on the west coast of Kea, we finally arrived at the mainland in the bay of Anavissou, very much back in charter fleet territory. A windy day, we dropped anchor with 40 meters of chain out, motored back hard on the chain to ensure it was well dug in, swam over with goggles to have a look, put on the snubber (three meters of nylon rope attached to both bow cleats to take the strain off the windlass), set anchor alarms for both depth and position, and made sure one of us was onboard at all times. Meanwhile a couple arrived next to us on a flotilla yacht, dropped their anchor, sort of stood looking down at it for a few minutes whilst studiously ignoring the German on the next boat who was whistling and gesticulating that they were too close. Later on we noticed the boat had gone however so we assumed they had decided they needed more room to swing at anchor. About 11.30pm however Paul heard an outboard motor buzzing towards us with someone saying "I can't see the boat! You did turn the anchor light on didn't you?" Turned out the boat had drifted downwind and was near the rocks.
Grateful once again to be reporting to Captain Paul.

After our second night here we set off by sail initially into strong headwinds towards Zea Marina near Athens for our rendezvous with Finn and Mille.

Click HERE - windy sailing

As the wind shifted we had to motor into it. Paul got soaked up on deck whilst I hid down below....

On arrival at the marina we spent some time dousing the salt off first the boat and then ourselves in some very welcome fresh water. Then Finn and Millie arrived - Ta-da! We did a big supermarket shop with our poor sleep deprived visitors in tow and cooked onboard. The next morning we left the city with not only Finn and Millie but a large inflatable pink flamingo on board.
First stop a bay on the island of Aigios Thomas.

Next the Corinth Canal. Once there we were told to moor alongside so we could pay the 200 Euro fee. Then back out again to anchor in the bay outside the entrance until it was our turn to pass through. This took some time. Once into the canal it is clear why traffic is one way only. An impressive feat of construction.

On the other side we headed in to Corinth and moored alongside on a strangely empty and once again slightly run down marina, paying a random man his requested 5 Euros for his efforts to guide us in to a quay with water. There were a lot of beggars in Corinth, our sense was that he was an enterprising one of these. Paul cycled to ancient Corinth, quite a job in the August heat. I had a siesta instead.
Wonderful Pegasus sculpture in the fountain on the sea front. Wherever Pegasus strikes his hoof a spring bursts forth, the fountain must have been one of those.

The mixed grill in the grillhouse that evening proved a bit too meaty even for Finn and Mille though. Vegetables are few and far between in a Greek grillhouse.

From Corinth we hoisted sail and set off beating into a strong headwind.

Paul and Finn did some performance sailing, pushing the boat to its max, giving Millie quite an introduction to sailing down below.

We dropped anchor in a bay on the north side of the gulf (Ormos Stenovaltos).
A short hop next day to the little town of Galaxidi, finding a spot on the quay in the charming little harbour.

At the swimming place further along the quay the locals gather and natter in the late afternoon. Always enjoy those places. No need to pay for a drink in order to sit under an umbrella, and there is usually have a vertical pipe or two with a shower head on. It's lovely seeing neighbours of all generations chatting and exchanging pleasantries. The older folk spend late afternoons floating about in groups in their sunhats and sunglasses passing the time and keeping cool.

As ever the sleepy first impression of Galaxidi at midday belied the nightlife, with the quiet cafe just across our gangplank turning into party central at midnight till dawn. Earplugs are a wonderful invention. The following day we hired a car and drove the 30 minutes up to Delphi. The heat in Greece reached new levels specially for Finn and Millie's visit. The pleasures of an air conditioned car were greatly enjoyed by all.
Delphi! The navel of the earth, where the two eagles sent out by Zeus to find the midpoint of the earth met. A most spectacular setting for the oracle. Remarkably, we got to wander amongst the sacred topography of the ancient world largely unencumbered by others.



Next morning with thunderstorms forecast we motored into an increasing headwind to the island of Trezonia where we went alongside the quay in a slightly run down but large and safe marina ten minutes walk from the town. Another pleasant village with a beach and a free shower, cafes and restaurants lining the front, with mainly Greek holiday makers. No water on the quay but a tap on the other side, so Finn and Mille ferried water bottles to and fro to top up our water tanks.

Paul barbequed in the pouring rain of a thunderstorm, the chops & halloumi and salad tasted all the better in the saloon. After a second night in Trezonia we headed west to the medieval harbour town of Navpactos, which wins the prize for the most picturesque harbour of them all. Here a view from the cafe on the harbour wall.


Navpactos, like Delphi, seemed strangely unthronged for such a beauty spot. Paul and I walked up to the Venetian castle within whose walls the whole medieval town sits, only to find it shut.

Nice views though and a delicate scent of pines.

The next morning we set off in the dinghy en masse

to check out the castle again. Open this time.

Finn and Millie found some ants...

From Navpactos we journeyed on to Mesolonghi, a 25 mile sail with a 15-20 knot following wind. Mesolonghi is like no other place we have been, basically a salt marsh. Long green sea grass a few meters untder the surface, and houses built on stilts (?) line the shore.

Paul and I cycled around Mesolonghi and took in the sights


Byron died at Mesolonghi fighting for Greece in the war of independence. We found him in the 'Garden of Heroes', a park with monuments to the many brave men who layed down their lives for Greece.

The books tell you that Byron's heart is here but the park attendant said it is his intestines that are under this monument. It would make sense. The intestines would need to be removed to minimise decay on the body's journey back to England. And he did give his 'guts' - his courage - to Greece.

On the quay in Mesolonghi we met a delightful man sailing his yacht solo at the age of 83, blind in one eye and having recently suffered a stroke. He has a 'perfectly functional' wife back in Devon but she believes it is dangerous living on the boat at their age. He considers a bungalow far more dangerous: 'Imagine! The boredom!' Born in India and a cousin of Patrick Leigh Fermor, the author of the book Paul was reading.
Leaving the flatlands of Mesolonghi we headed for the island of Oxia where we put lines ashore in possibly one of the loveliest little bays Paul has found, all steep wooded hills cascading into the sea. The wash from ferries crossing was a little disturbing at times, but once again our anchor once proved worth its weight.

Balancing defensive mozzie action with the need for air in the rear cabin is a challenge. With little wind there was no breeze to take the edge off the heat at night. Sleep was had where and when possible. Finn and Millie resorted to the foredeck, and Millie spent quite a few nights on the seats in the cockpit.

Sleep or no, we had a plane to catch so ventured ever westward. Flemi looks quite happy strapped onto the dinghy as we leave Oxia in spite of her broken wing that Paul and Finn fixed with some cable ties. I think she had a fun time there.

We headed for Kioni where we anchored with lines ashore in the bay and cooled down in the water. From Kioni it was a short hop to Ay Andreou, the secluded bay on Ithaca where we spent two nights previously. This time we had more company and a few episodes on the yachting channel to watch.
From there a short trip next morning to Poros and a taxi ride to the airport for a flight to Berlin. Paul found a laundry lady who just about managed to bring the washing back before the taxi left.
We drowned our sorrow over their departure in a taverna with a view second to none.

So long dear and lovely young ones.

6th - 16th August

Arriving at Tinos in 36 knots of wind after a 60 mile long voyage we were relieved to find plenty of space on the quay. The wind was blowing straight off so we dropped the anchor, Paul backed on to the quay like an absolute pro, and we were finally safely attached to a large piece of concrete. Later the following was spotted in the pilot book....:
'NOTE: Care must be taken of violent gusts off the high land on the lee side of the islands when the meltemi blows. These gusts may be considerably higher than the wind strength on the sea when the meltemi is blowing...' Furthermore:

Well that explains it!

Tinos was one of those harbours where it's all a bit random. It is not clear whether or how or to whom you are supposed to pay any harbour fees. The helpful man from the port authority who took our ropes asked the boat next to us to go to the port police with their papers, but he didn't ask us. They couldn't find the place and he didn't ask either them or us again. They told us that the port authority are reponsible for collecting the fees but the port police get the money. Therefore little incentive. And every port has a different set up. Here, the port man showed us how to hook up to free electricity. That's a first. Water was available, the port guy went off on his scooter to get the water man who came down with his receipt book and charged us 1.50 Euros for 150 liters. All very satisfactory from our point of view but less of a good deal for the Greek state it would seem.

It was lively at night on the harbour that night but we slept soundly anyway.

It's always interesting seeing who is on the quay, particularly as we had seen hardly any sailing yachts on the east side of the Aegean. Charter boats with young Australian/Americans one side and the next day a New Zealand crew arrived on the other side. The Kiwis were needing to get their boat back west to Athens by the weekend, but winds were not looking favourable. In the end they stayed two nights and after much umming and aahing left on Thursday at midday. Slightly concerning to see them go. The young captain looked distinctly anxious. We watched them being tossed from side to side as soon as they left the harbour, even under motor with only a tiny patch of genoa out. Soon afterwards we measured gusts of 46 knots on the quay. Paul messaged them to suggest they might want to consider returning, we were glad when they replied saying that once they were further out and away from Tinos the wind dropped to 20-25 knots. A big relief to know they were ok. Not least as the previous evening a new neighbour had arrived with spectacularly shredded sails.

Landlocked, we explored Tinos. A striking feature of the town is the carpet running up the side of the main road in town.

Exotic we thought, realising it led up to a large church and was therefore presumably intended for crawling pilgrims. Tinos, we discovered, is the major Christian pilgrimage in Greece, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and we had arrived in the middle of her two week festival. That explained the festivities on the quay the night we arrived - lively even by Greek standards of late night dining. The pilgrimage is centred on an icon with miraculous healing powers found here. A nun and an old man were visited by apparitions leading to the discovery of an old church where the icon was eventually unearthed. The discovery was seen to be doubly significant as it happened in the year that Greece won the war of independence from the Turks. A large renaissance church was then built on the spot. On 15th August the icon is brought out and paraded around town for all to see, and in the two weeks running up to it pilgrims come from all over Greece to pay homage to the right honourable VM. Her church has an impressive array of red runners to take mercy on the knees of devotees.

We followed the crowd and ventured into a crypt. Inside there was holy water on tap inside arched rooms with fonts and icons covered in silver and gold.

Prayers could be written and posted in a box along with small images in pressed metal plaques depicting the object of your prayer - an arm, a leg, a woman, a man, a ship etc. The metal things are for sale in little shops all around, along with candles and icons and little plastic bottles to fill with holy water.

I bought a plaque for the boat and prevailed upon the good Mary to support St. Christopher (the patron saint of travellers) in keeping us safe at sea, adapting the process to keep both her blessing and the plaque. 'Trust in God but tether your camel' as they say, so we also have displayed the procedure for radioing for assistance should our hour of need arrive.

Meanwhile our planned departure kept being postponed by fearful forecasts, underlined by the continuous blasting and buffeting of the boat on the quay. We settled down to a routine of mid-morning coffee at one of the many pleasant cafes in the narrow whitewashed lanes.



As well as selling good cappucino these establishments offer facilities to reduce demands on our holding tank. They also provide welcome respite from the whistling and clanking in the rigging and the constant motion of the boat. In the popular game of 'how windy is it now?' Paul spotted 49.7 knots on the instruments. That's 57 miles per hour to you landlubbers. 92 kilometers an hour. 25 meters per second. Even at night the wind rarely seemed to quieten down, gusts of 25-40+ knots eternally streaming down at us from the steep heights of Tinos.

Meanwhile, this superyacht reversed in next to us, 46 meters of pure black shininess. Available to charter with 8 staff for a mere 150,000 Euro per week.

Basically a big black mirror.

We got chatting to our neighbours of the ripped sails, an unusual and beautiful old wooden vessel.

Norwegian Janita and Greek Andreas sailed 'Mayflower' from Norway down through the rivers and canals of Europe. It was interesting to hear his perspective on living in Norway, their life in Greece, and her voluntary work in the refugee camp in Samos where he is from and where they live. There is no provision for instance for much needed medication, which is provided for by international donations. She has 3 years training as a social worker/nursing assistant (vernepleier) but ended up taking all referrals for child healthcare. Interpreters are not available. It is hard to square all this with us just bobbing about on a boat.... but so it is.

Having had their two ripped sails sewn up into one serviceable one and wanting to travel with another yacht going the same way they decided to set off one morning. Paul got a line to their boat from ours to help them get away without mishap.

Click HERE for some footage

A few hours later however they were back. After two waves nearly knocked them flat they turned around and headed back to safety. That evening Andreas introduced us to a new culinary experience gathered by his own fair hand. The only edible parts are the orange bits - the reproductive organs of this spiny shiny black hermaphrodite. Hmmm yes.... Paul was unkeen.

Exquisitely, delicately flavoursome it turned out to be though. Which looks likely to be the cause of their demise. The law no longer permits commercial fishing but domestic use is permitted. They seem common enough hazards when climbing ashore to attach lines though. Pleased to say I have yet to step on one.

Landlocked as we were we took a tour of the island by motorbike. With little information available in English we went on a blind date with Tinos. First stop Monastiri, a convent it turned out when Paul was denied access on sartorial grounds and relegated to the naughty bench outside with all the other men in shorts. The nuns' accommodation was beautiful, and dotted about in the whitewashed mini-city were numerous small churches / sanctuaries / holy grottos.

It proved as windy up high as below, with dramatic views from the top edge. A very dry landscape.

Click HERE for a panorama

Some beautiful churches.

More churches than houses sometimes, lit up in white against the unremitting brown of the desiccated hills. All the buildings in this photo are churches.

It is hard to believe that the terraces carved into every slope of the island are ever green, they seemed so dried out. Tinos was described in centuries past as the most fertile of the islands in the Cyclades however. This may have been down to the fertilisation provided by the dovecots that litter the island.

The dovecots were introduced in Venetian times as pigeon meat was found to be good, and the droppings even better. Judging by the few we passed that seemed still to be in operation the smell must have been pretty potent back then. The ornate decorations were believed to attract doves via their symmetrical designs. These discerning doves did the island a true service, for the dovecots are as plentiful and as beautiful as the churches.

The island turns out to house colonies of artists as well as doves and nuns. In the pearl of a place that is Pyrgos there is an art school and two museums of sculpture - as well as the usual spectacular array of beautiful churches. We timed it so that the museums had both just closed, but a walk around Pyrgos was reward enough for the soul.






Safely back in Tinos town, pilgrims with bundles on their back were beginning to throng the roads. By dent of the wind we were still here and the date was 14th August, the evening before the main event. We wandered up to the church.


People were crawling up the road, some with bandages around the knees, some without. Some with sleeping mats on their back, others with friends or relatives carrying bags. Nobody seemed to take much notice.

People sleep out around the church over night and we passed many human shaped bundles and family groups. Children were running around, there were stalls selling all sorts. We only got as far as the electrical goods. A festival atmosphere prevailed, in the midst of which the shapes of crawling people could be seen. Spot the priest on his mobile phone?

Next morning at 11.30 the proceedings down at the quay began with people gathering on rooftops.

The navy was in place in triplicate, bunting flying.

All of a sudden church bells were ringing, ships were honking, canons were going off right left and centre, and a procession arrived from on high consisting of wonderfully dressed bearded priests mostly with pigtails, some with gold crowns and golden gowns, others in their black regulars. Accompanying them was the band, and the navy in all their finery.

Click HERE - it's worth it! and don't forget to turn the sound up for the full effect.

Eventually the icon itself emerged, carried atop the sailors' shoulders in its gold and silver encasement, to the salute of the coast guard and the letting loose of canons and church bells and ships' horns all over again.

Click HERE to see the icon arriving

And that was that. No thronging around to kiss or touch the icon. No mayhem. Just a short (well, rather long actually) prayer / incantation by the priest over the loudspeaker, some marching, saluting, band playing, bell ringing and singing. All very celebratory. And off the end of our gangplank as luck would have it.

And so finally, we left. Winds were favourable the next day and alarms set for 6am to get away before the wind started rushing down the hills in earnest. Neither of us slept much. As dawn broke we broke free of Tinos. It all looks so still on a photo but we left as we had arrived, in 36 knots of wind.

28th July - 6th August

Waving farewell to Reub and Jo we headed to Stenivala on Alonnisos where we stayed for two nights, waiting for meltemi to blow us south to Skyros. So what's the meltemi you may ask? The meltemi is a strong northerly summer wind that blows down the central Aegean, caused by high pressure over the Balkans with relatively low pressure over Turkey. The low and the high pressure systems spin in different directions, and where they meet the wind blows. The meltemi tends to be stronger in the day but blows continually at around force 4-7 (16-36 knots, or up to 38mph).

In the lee of and between islands there are often stronger gusts still. Why so? It's supposed to be sheltered on the south side! In fact it's the opposite. On the north side of islands it tends to be light, and on the southerly side it's often howling. It's all about temperature. As the strong warm winds blow onto the island they are lifted up toward the high ground well before they reach the shore. By the time they get to the top of the island they are cooler, so they then rush down the hills to the supposedly sheltered south side of the island. (This is Paul speaking by the way. I'm still getting the hang of it.) Where this is happening you often see 'orographic' clouds hang over the top of islands, giving the game away.

The meltemi wind is supposed to be strongest in July and August but so far it had been mainly remarkable by its absence. Skipper Murphy was keen to get some decent sailing in so we held out for wind for the 33 mile crossing to Skyros. After two days we set off with 10-15 knots on the tail, pleasant sailing. We stopped in Ormos Fokas for a rolly night at anchor before we went on to Skyros marina. Skyros has few sheltered anchorages so we hopped along the 4 miles to the marina, very organised and helpful

For 22 Euros a night plus water fees you wouldn't want to be landlocked there for weeks. Which with the meltemi is a distinct possibility in the Aegean.

We hired a tiny moped to explore the island. Much of it rather barren.

Skyros old town is built around a high rock with a Venetian castle on which is now a monastery. In Greece you have to do things in the morning or the evening so by the time we got there it was characteristically closed. Strictly mad dogs and Englishmen out in the midday sun. It's remarkable how many people fit into the houses here. When people emerge for their evening meal at 10pm or so the empty streets that we have been wondering around are suddenly crowded. The monastery / castle is on top of this rock above the church, all of which drops vertically down to a beach miles below.

A steep town with tiny front-room sized churches round every corner in the old narrow whitewashed alleyways.




From Skyros we set off early at 7am for the 55 nautical mile journey to Psara. Catabatic clouds like fluffy cotton wool over the tops gathering over Skyros already as we left.

I took a bit of video of us sailing along but am never brave enough to film outside when it really blows.
Click HERE for some sailing footage .. and HERE for some porthole footage

The meltemi had definitely arrived. I was glad to see the craggy rock of Psara island approaching, but also glad to have felt comfortable cruising the meltemi. It no longer seems quite so scary. This is a good thing.

There's not much on Psara, everything has to be shipped in, but the ferries come regularly. The ferry connections in Greece seem to connect every tiny outpost, even in Psara the ferries came regularly. Good shelter on a pleasant quay in the tiny village that still manages to have enormous churches. A Greek man and his daughter moored up next to us on a smaller yacht. Discussing the weather forecast ahead he commented 'It's not just going to be windy, it's going to be hell!' Somewhat disconcerting...
That evening we walked up in an eerily dark night to an old mill and a church on the high point.

From Psara we had a 30 mile sail to Kardamila on the island of Chios, a very pleasant harbour where we were the only sailing yacht on the quay. We spent some days recuperating and getting our house in order after several long crossings.

Few tourists, mainly Greek. An understated place of some faded grandeur, figs ripe for the plucking, a childrens swimming competition off the beach, public showers and attractively planted trees for shade.


Chios is home to several shipping magnates. Perhaps the motoryacht next to us belonged to one of these. The Filippino staff told us that the owners bring the yacht from Athens for the summer to Chios where they have a holiday home. Nannies trailed the children relentlesslly. Felt a bit sorry for both the nannies and the children who kept trying to escape them.

And in the evening, a commercial fishing boat for Paul to inspect. Much more interesting.

We have been struck by the absence of dinghy sailing in Greece, but here was an Optimist open meeting,

and some evocative public art.

Speaking of art, we also did some pear arranging in honour of our friend Peter.

Kardamila was moreish, but it was time to move on. We made the short 7 miles trip to Mandraki on the island of Oinousses, where a mermaid marks the entrance


A lovely setting for the harbour with a town bigger than expected, with a beautiful church, as ever. I never get quite immune to those buildings.

The extremely loud music from the nearby bar till about 5am made for a fitful night's sleep however, along with the rolling swell caused by the ferries that seemed to continue most of the night too. But we needed to get on with the next leg: 30 miles to Emborio bay on south tip of Chios. So close and yet so far - Turkey will have to wait! We are turning the corner, heading toward the end of GT18, our Grand Tour, starting to head westward and homewards.

The Turkish navy was patrolling the waters and we made sure not to stray over the border. Here is a picture of the chart plotter showing our boat - the red line is the border with Turkey.

From lunar Chios we planned to go to Ikaria, where Ikaros fell into the sea when he flew too close to the sun and the wax holding his wings together melted. Brueghel the Elder painted the scene in the 1500s. Ikaros is hard to spot. That being the moral of the story of course. It is spring, creation is busy unfolding itself and no one pays any attention to the plop of an inflated ego that is Ikarus drowning.

The waiter in the bar in Mandraki told us Ikaria has a different mentality to the rest of Greece. The bakery is left unlocked and people come in and help themselves and leave money in a box. A place based on trust it seems. Interesting. We learned later that after the civil war the Communists were sent to Ikaria as punishment, but the locals were rather taken with their views.

Sadly however we didn't get to visit Ikaria as the forecast the night before indicated very strong winds approaching, and we needed to get across the Aegean within the next two weeks to meet Finn and Millie in Athens. We decided therefore to head straight for Mykonos, a long 55 mile crossing. We set the alarm for 6.30 and half an hour later we were off. Us and the fishermen.

As we left Chios behind the wind increased and we had a steady 20-25 knot north easterly all the way. Once again the feeling of a proper voyage when land behind disappears and land ahead is not yet visible.

Mykonos Marina website advised that we needed to message Nikos the harbour master to get a berth. I had texted him in the evening but was asked to contact him again at 8am. In the course of the morning's sail with intermittent signal the following exchange ensued:

'Have winty no leaving small boat' sounded ominous. We decided to head for Tinos, another 5 miles or so but we were sailing fast in spite of the huge waves, and estimating we could get there by 4-5pm. For yes, the waves. The Aegean is a big stretch of water. The sea has time to build up, and the waves were a little larger than ideal it seemed to me. 2-3 meters high maybe? Not massive, but from more than one direction. We were both looking forward to the flatter waters closer to shore. When we reached the vicinity of Tinos the sea did indeed flatten out but as predicted the gusts started building. "How windy is it now?" I shouted to Paul, both reefs in our mainsail and the genoa furled to just a patch. He shouted back "31 - 33 - 36 - 37...!" Time to ditch what was left of the sails. Nothing for it but to climb onto that foredeck and pull the sail down into the bag, clinging onto the mast with one arm. I reckon I've earned my naval stripes now. Once the sails were down another yacht came past us also heading for Tinos. One of the crew took this video of us.
Click HERE to see our approach to Tinos
It looks nowhere near as windy as it felt! We were glad to be able to attach ourselves to concrete in Tinos harbour, dropping the anchor and backing into 36 knots of wind on the quay.

22nd -28th July

Reuben and Jo arrived with the ferry at 10.30pm as scheduled and braved the gangplank for their first night aboard, bringing gifts and books and good cheer aplenty, as is their wont. After a sweltering night with intermittent sleep for Paul in the heat, he handed over the reins to Commander Woodbridge, whilst I delegated anchoring and fender maiden duties to Jo so the two of them could practice managing the boat by themselves. Competent crew Jo carried out the recommended daily WOBBLE check on the engine (water, oil, belts, bilges, leaks, exhaust) and Paul did a safety briefing for us all. All surprisingly instructive.

After a morning trip to the supermarket we were all set to leave, when Paul discovered none of our navigation equipment was working. Never afraid to 'get stuck in', Reuben volunteered to check the wiring in the locker.

A sweltering hour or two later Paul had diagnosed the problem and got it working (hero!) and we set off. It later turned out as per my niggling suspicion that it was probably me cramming stuff into the rear storage locker that knocked a wire out.

With an uncertain weather forecast good shelter was required and bays do not get more enclosed than Planitis, so we sailed off north east again in good wind with a safe pair of hands at the helm.

A fair few yachts had sought shelter there but there was enough room to swing a yacht at 50-60 meters of chain. We had dinner onboard and played a game, while the squalls built. After a 180 degree wind shift from the forecast direction several boats relayed their anchors, us included. Just as we had gone to bed at midnight all hell broke loose. Cracks of thunder, flashes of lightning, extreme gusts. Paul, Reuben and I got on deck and strapped the bimini back to reduce windage and were instantly soaked to the skin. The worst seemingly over we gradually dried off and got back under the covers, though it took a while to get to sleep in the storm. We woke to a quiet morning however. Up early, I watched three goat herders come riding down side saddle on their mules, like some biblical scene. From the other side of the bay we watched them round up some of the goats, strap four of them into the sacks hanging either side of two mules and ride off with them. Distressed bleating echoed around the bay, including that of a young kid presumably about to become orphaned. Those monks must be having goat tonight. The harsh realities.

After morning swims and breakfast we headed for Skopelos town on the north of the island of Skopelos. The wind built and we sailed all the way in big churned up seas. Good sailing!

In picturesque Skopelos we found a spot on the quay.

and free water ...

Skopelos has multitudes of small churches. Many of the churches were open that evening for the 3 day period of mourning for the victims of the fire near Athens. The sobering and shocking news of the fires had just reached us. What to say about that.

The bizarre thing is that other than the churches being open, life went on where we were as if nothing had happened. Surreal. Skopelos however is so beautiful it raises the spirits. Felt like a place where people live and work and not just a tourist destination.


We found a bar selling beers from Greek micro breweries, a good spot to while away some of the evening.

With another day of good winds we sailed on to a bay on the island of Peristeri

where we encountered a retired royal marine doing Tai Chi under the trees on the beach whilst airing his two adopted stray dogs. Jo did some sketching

The people on the other neighbouring yacht then invited us over for drinks before dinner. Very international: a Greek-British family living in Brussels and a Spanish-Italian family resident in France. Oxford PhDs in nuclear fission. We paddled back drunkenly and disordered.

Next morning we hoped to cross to Skyros, wind permitting. Wind initially looked promising so we set off southwards, but slowly it died off. To the dismay of our erstwhile crew keen to undertake the longer sea voyage, we headed for Tzortzi Bay on Alonnisos, a lovely spot with good shelter where we had been before with Jean.

En route we took advantage of Jo's photography skills and high spec camera and set her and Reuben loose in the dinghy to take some action shots.

We nearly ran them over in the process though. Fortunately not quite.

In Tzortzi we discovered a large praying mantis making strange rocking movements on our danbuoy. We took him under our wing, determining his gender as male based on size (females are bigger still) and his odd movements (reportedly attractive to female mantises). Manuel the Mantis eats wasps it turned out after Paul managed to feed him some.

It is quite a bizarre thing watching a praying mantis munch its way through a large wasp. I don't know where he puts it. There's nothing of him other than cartilege and length. He had two wasps a day for the next two days. One he even caught himself. We did assist by smearing honey on the danbuoy though.

The taverna on the beach was an atmospheric place with the water lapping and the full moon rising over our calamari and Greek salad, lanterns in the trees. Next day we decided to stay put for another night. Jo and Reub swam ashore for a coffee in the taverna and taking some towels with them in the dry-bag, and bringing a nutty honey pie back. Yummy it was, the salty dampness added a certain something.

Paul strapped a rope under the boat and spent some time scrubbing algae off the hull and cleaning the side decks

Jo did a sketch of the promontory, now brightening up our saloon between our cards from Jean and Karen.

Reub and Jo discovered the fish come right up to you if you take some bread with you when swimming. Here I am feeding the fish. Am I really that colour on top? Quite like it actually.

That night we watched a Blood Moon rise for the longest lunar eclipse this century.

We could not have asked for a better viewing position to watch the moon rise and Earth's shadow gradually encroaching on the moon. We stayed up till midnight and went swimming with the sparkling fluorescent algae lighting up our every move. Stars above and below. The 'Blood Moon' cocktail was created on this very evening. If you lack the full ingredients for a Mojito just stir together some red rum, a pinch of Greek basil, lashings of sugar and some tonic water and presto! you have yourself a Blood Moon cocktail. Has a bit of bite to it. Fiery Mars is in the mix. Best imbibed to the sound of Cat Stevens singing 'Moon Shadow'.

Next day after breakfasting in Patatiri we waved farewell to Reub and Jo as their ferry left the port. Adieu kind friends... Thank you for the lava necklace and the books on philosophy and the art of travel, the guide to Greece, the beautiful sketches and the happy memories.

14th -21st July

Chatting with other yachties as we do we had heard others wax lyrical about the monastic Akti peninsula, so after some deliberation we decided to head east and north. Not much wind in the bay of Volos.

First stop the southeastern tip of the Bay of Volos in a quiet spot surrounded by little Greek holiday homes. At first drop the anchor dragged, a first for our fancy 'third generation' anchor whuch is neant to bite into anything. When I brought it up it looked like two enormous white antlers rose from the deep, the branches of a ghostly tree perhaps, or an enormous sea creature shy of the light. Fortunately the monster dropped into the deep again and the anchor bit at the second drop. Next morning we snagged the monster again however, this time bringing it into the day: a huge submerged tree that had wrapped our chain impossibly around its limbs. While Paul was planning how to drag it in to shallower waters so we could dive down to free ourselves we let anchor and tree sink into the deep again. By some miracle next time the anchor came up monster-free. Just by bringing the monsters lurking in our shadowy depths to light we detach ourselves somehow it seems...

Another night in Andriamou by the quarry with lines ashore. Spot the three little birds on one of our lines?

Next Patatiri on Alonnisos, a pleasant place very much geared to receiving tourists but with local life too. We walked to the little petrol station in town where the kind woman managed to understand us sufficiently that her husband beckoned Paul into his little truck and drove him down to fill us up with diesel on the quay, with me trotting after. Debilitatingly hot though on the southfacing concrete quay with rockface also soaking up the sun. Topless showering on the Greek yacht next to us noted by Paul.

We headed for Planitis bay on the island of Panagea next and had a quiet night under the stars at this beautiful enclosed bay that has a special kind of stark beauty. Planitis from the Greek for planet, which also means wonderer. It made me smile to learn this..

24 years ago we escaped there with Jon and Nic on a flotilla yacht, and spent an afternoon wakeboarding on the bilgeboards. A memorable place, beautiful and deserted but for a few goats, some fishermen and yachts at anchor. We spent the evening swimming and playing the guitar. Gradually people started singing on boats all around us in the dark night too. (Perhaps they were trying to drown us out...?) The island of Panagyia is now a wildlife sanctuary as in spite of its marvellous natural harbour it has no settlements other than a monastery in which lives a single monk who hoists the flag every morning. On our way here we passed a little motor boat with a black clad bearded man in, he waved. I presumed he must be the monk.

Clergy are a regular feature in Greece. They seem to wear their black robes all the time, and with their beards and cylindrical hats they are quite distinctive. You come across them primarily in and around churches and hardware stores.

(I can't bring myself to take pictures of people here, stole this one off some other sailor's blog.)

At the appointed time of departure 8am I made some tea, raised the anchor, turned on the instruments, started the engine and motored us out of Planitis Bay all by my very own self whilst Paul had his tea in bed. Good to know it can be done. The winds proved more favourable than forecast so we left land behind and sailed into the horizon, keeping the sails up most of the way across. Destiation Sykia, a large bay at the southern tip of Sinthonia on the Halkidiki peninsula. Rows of deckchairs and parasols on every beach, a contrast from the remoteness of Planitis Bay. Next morning we crossed to see the monasteries on the west side of Akti peninsula.

With a female on board boats are supposed to keep a nautical mile (1.8 km) clear of the shore. Men are allowed within 500 meters. We decided I could be male for the day but we stayed outside the 500 meter zone - unlike some other pirate-themed day tripper boats.

The monasteries are spectacular. They dot the mountainous hillside along the peninsula, some on the shore, others perched on rocky outcrops halfway up the mountain.

There have been Orthodox monasteries here since at least 1000 AD, but most of the current buildings are from the 1700-1800s. They are huge, with capacity to house thousands of monks. The population was in steep decline and becoming very elderly but reportedly there has been an upturn in recent years with a number of young well educated monks coming from Russia, Serbia, Bulgaria and other Orthodox countries as well as Greece. The monks live off the land, eat primarily vegetarian food that they cultivate themselves. Not only are women not allowed on the island, female animals are forbidden also, so they have to procure meat from elsewhere. The goat population of Planitis Bay for instance was established to feed the monks on Akti.
Pilgrims visit and walk from place to place, though reportedly there are wild bears and boar in the forest and it is challenging walking with few roads - though perhaps this is changing as we saw quite a few roads. Here are some pics of the monasteries I found on t'internet taken by a young pilgrim.



We were fortunate to be able to sail northwards along the west coast in a gentle following wind, perfect conditions for seeing this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Anchoring on the island Ammouliani (pumping music on the organised beach..) we crossed back over to the middle finger again next morning and stopped for lunch, water and provisions in the pleasant small village of Panagias. Free water on the quay - fortunate as self or significant other had left the tap on and we were empty in both tanks. Travelling briefly south to the island of Diaporos, busy with holiday makers during the day, but peaceful in the night.

We stayed at anchor another night, sadly after losing our paddle board either to the wind and a distracted knot, or to some chancers passing by. Then a short hop back to Sykia again where we swam ashore with the rubbish in a dry bag hoping to locate a post office (oh vain hope), but did some shopping instead. Here's Paul returning with some cucumbers, milk, nectarines and bread.

But where are the strong northerlies that were supposed to carry us south? We were hoping for a good sail back to the Sporades. A light breeze did arrive though and we breakfasted under sail.

we had to motor the rest. Time for some washing.

Dolphins visited several times on our sojourn north in the Aegean, some of them bow riding. Such a joy, the dolphins. We also brought a little moth with us across the seas. It landed on my arm and stayed there for a while. Its markings designed to frighten away predators. I see a snake about to strike, with open fangs. So the fluttery little moth can stay safe. Necessary sometimes in life, to hide and dissemble and be a bit scary.

Another night at anchor in Planitis on a glassy calm night on the eve of my birthday. Hard to tell the anchor lights from the stars...

What better place to wake up in on my birthday. I love that place. We had a leisurely morning swimming, breakfasting, a few gifts from near and far and chats with family, feeling grateful. I decided to redesign my Volvo cap for the occasion. If the cap fits wear it, as they say ... :-)


A short journey to Patatiri, passing this yacht at the mouth of a cave. Tempting but no.

Reub and Jo were arriving with the ferry at 10.30pm so we had some hours in Patatiri and went swimming off the rocks round the side of the harbour

before heading up to the Chora (old town) of Alonissos on a motorbike. Salvaged from the ruins and very charming, built on such dramatic sites as they are, these old settlements.


Plenty of ruins still not salvaged though. Tiny houses, with doors and windows to peek through..

Attractive outside spaces in Alonnisos.


We had celebratory cocktails and a taverna meal with spectacular views. In a taverna where who should sit down next to us but a Norwegian family celebrating the dad's birthday. On 22nd July, the 9/11 of the Norwegian calendar. I thought my birthday would never be the same again, but with time it is just a date and my birthday is an opportunity to appreciate and savour all the gifts of life. This beautiful little church, a jewel in the midst of the tourist shops and cafes, 'the Church of the Birth of Christ'. I lit a candle for my ancestors through whom I birthed, in whose hearts is my berth. As my children have a berth in my heart, forever.

5th - 13th July

Waving farewell to Jean in Skiathos we headed back to Loutraki on Alonnisos for the night.

The helpful flotilla crew had said they might be able to climb the mast for us to fix the steaming light (lights the deck) as promised. They suggested however that we head for their HQ in Volos to see Christos at the Sail Aegean charter boat base so we turned back east again. En route we stopped in Ormos Andriamou by the strangely beautiful quarry

where we took lines ashore in a wooded bay with a few small holiday homes.

We took our journey slowly, motoring in light winds, and anchored next in Amaliapolis bay by a small village. Paul went ashore whilst I tried to stay cool, July heat having set in now in Greece. Once you stop moving through the air by sail or by motor the heat can be hypnotic, debilitating. On hot days not much gets done until sundown at 9ish. Luckily the previous owners of our boat sewed up some sheets to make sun shades that we tie up around the cockpit for shelter. The water melons help too, they are so sweet and cool and hold a surprising amount of water to make up for the gallons that must be dripping off us.

Arriving at Volos at midday on Saturday we were welcomed by the Sail Aegean staff, helping us back onto their quay. We were hoping for a quick turnaround but in fact we stayed in Volos till Tuesday morning.

Volos is a city with large industrial harbour but we had an adventurous and memorable time there. Saturday night Paul watched England beat Sweden (!!), before we set off into town to find a place to eat. En route we passed the old railway station and saw these old rusting railway engines lined up as if in an outdoor museum, like a Dismaland version of Thomas the Tank Engine.

All of a sudden a strong warm wind started blowing, swirling leaves and dust about like a building hurricane. Then the rain came. We ran for shelter and found it under an awning outside a shop. With the lightning came a deafening crack of thunder and the lights went out. The road turned into raging river. Very glad to be ashore and not at sea. Glad too that Paul had the foresight to close the hatches on the boat before we left!
Click HERE to see some weather
After 20 minutes it died down and we emerged from under the awning, waded through the road/river and found a place to eat and dry off a little.

On Sunday we hired a scooter (the helmets are not the trendiest, perhaps the reason why nobody wears any..?)

and headed up Mount Pelion, passing this sculpture of a centaur, pointing it turned out up the mountain towards 'the Centaurs' Path', a rocky walk up a meandering river bed in a steep wooded valley. The sculpture, it turns out, was of Chiron, the first centaur. I didn't take a photo of it so here is one I found on my laptop as I am writing this.

Chiron was 'distinguished for his nobility and perspicacity' it says, the wounded healer himself, who lived in a cave in this mountain and learned how to use the herbs of Mount Pelion to cure animals and humans. Strange to happen across his homestead here on this mountain, having just completed my intense and challenging counselling training at Re-Vision to become a wounded healer. The centaur's path is a life's journey... fortunately for us it is very beautiful indeed.

Appropriately at the top of the Centaur's Path we came to a place with a fountain spurting fresh mountain water, no doubt full of good minerals. A man was filling up about 30 plastic containers of all shapes and sizes and piling them into his car. The water tasted pretty good compared to the water in our holding tanks, tapped from the various quays at varying prices. I topped up a plastic bottle I found in the woods and we wound our way back down, having a spot of lunch under the beautiful trees at the cafe on the bottom before getting back on the bike.

As we wound our way up the mountainous slopes of Mount Pelion on two wheels the temperature dropped steadily. At 1400m we passed a ski resort. Surprisingly, yes they do have them in Greece. We stopped for some food in a scenic village, reminiscent of the Alps somehow. Not sure what I might have said to elicit this reaction in Paul though..

Groups of walkers and school children congregating after their hiking in the mountains.

The angle of the hills on which the Greeks build their villages, roads and houses is quite something. It is also quite something to see how quickly the roads erode and wash away. In the battle of nature vs concrete nature has the advantage of gravity here.

We were still high up when rainclouds gathered but fortunately dodged the worst of it, only got slightly wet and stopped for tea at a very pleasant place in a village halfway down until the rain stopped.

On Monday our friends at Sail Aegean proved true to their word and after quite a lot of shouting up and down the mast fixing the wiring they got it working and charged us a very modest fee of 70 Euros.

We decided to stay another night and do some provisioning. Whilst Paul was out shopping all hell broke loose. Gale force winds came from nowhere again and the heavens opened. We were moored between charter boats and I was told to start the engine and motor off the quay against our mooring lines to stop us bumping about. Drenched to the bone I kept watch and motored forward in spite of the worry that I might pull the back of the boat off. Meanwhile Paul, it turned out, was keeping dry chatting to the nice woman in the Delicatessen. It was all over bar the mopping up by the time he got back.

With the wiring fixed we left Volos heading south to the Trikeri peninsula where we found a lovely spot in a bay with only a tiny church for a neighbour.

Whilst there however Paul discovered one of our navigation lights was missing from the front of the boat. Not an optional bit of equipment. So we decided to head back to Volos again to source a replacement. The guys at Sail Aegean welcomed us back on their quay again, Paul sourced and fitted the light and we headed off again, unexpectedly taken with industrial Volos.

20th June - 4th July
We reached Porto Rafti a couple of days in advance of our rendezvous with Jean. After a night in the bay we found space on the quay and spent a hot day getting the boat shipshape.

Not the most glorious harbour for the reception but only 15 mins by taxi from Athens airport. Jean settled in to the rear cabin for the night after mushroom risotto on board. In the morning we found these hapless little fish had made a suicidal leap into our rear scoop. These little ones look lovely when like silver rain they leap from the sea. We had a small school in the dinghy too, quite a leap to get into that. In the morning heat they didn't smell so fresh though.

Fish buried at sea and breakfast had we set off north for the Evia Channel. Whilst underway Paul spent some hot hours making and attempting to use various tools to open the inspection hatch to the holding tank as our former blockage returned. Unfortunate timing with a VIP guest now onboard. On arrival in Karavos he finally succeeded in prizing off the lid to the inspection hatch. At this point there was nothing for it but to reach a long arm into the tank to excavate large amounts of encrusted compost by hand. Jean declined to volunteer in spite of subtle prompts (I felt perhaps her slender limb would have fitted better than mine....). I will spare you further details but long story short those of you who are yet to visit will be pleased to know it is now all sorted for you. My pleasure. No, really.

The Evia Channel proved a more industrial landscape than hitherto. Here is Jean enjoying views of the ancient cement factory, dressed in cashmere for the occasion.

The only bit of pre-travel advice we gave her was not to bring any warm clothes. Luckily we had some spare. Continuing the industrial theme, Karavos itself is a small place remarkable for its view of the power station, as well as the beauty of the hills around. A grey day - though not as grey as the one depicted. I pinched this photo from another yacht's blog, not having been moved to capture this particular view. Quite spectacular though in fact.

We found a spot on the quay next to a Romanian family and went for a swim off the beach just along the quay, it now being boiling hot again after the cold of the journey. An 'organised beach' as it is termed - straw sunshades, tables and chairs and drinks for sale. The designation 'organised' which is used not only for beaches, points perhaps to the default Greek mode of unorganised, as opposed to disorganised. On some quays on some days you pay, on other days there is no way to pay, on other quays you don't pay on any day anyway. No clear pattern is discernable. But it all seems to hang together for the most part. We enjoyed a swim and a drink and a meal out before the heavens opened once again. It's warmer in England apparently.

Destination Chalkis, a narrow isthmus between the mainland and the island of Evia connected by two bridges. One is a high level bridge with 50 meters clearance, the other a low bridge in the town which opens briefly for passage once every 24 hours and only at night, at variable times depending on the tide. You go to the Port Authority to pay the 35 Euro fee and then take proof of payment to the Port Police and receive your instructions. The bridge opened at 1:30am, but we were instructed to wait by our radios from 9pm so we stayed up. People have been known to miss their slot as there is not much of a window. This large motor yacht in front of us prompted plenty of pondering on who owns these things. The owners just sit about watching the staff do al the work. Where's the fun in that? Quite beautiful the turquoise light on the seas below though...


People seem to be up fishing at all hours of the night in Greece. Not much to catch but a very popular hobby nonetheless with the young and old.

When the call finally came we were first to scoot through, finding a berth on the other side of the bridge along the quay. A few hours sleep later we woke to a sunny day. Following breakfast in the cafe off the gangplank, Paul took the opportunity to get the anchor chain out to repaint the markers so that the Anchor Dame might more accurately gauge how much chain she has actually dropped. This having at times been a cause of some agitation back in the cockpit.

We were parked near this haunting sculpture. I took a picture of the inscription and asked a waitress later to translate. The monument was dedicated to the people who died in the struggle for Greece in the 2nd world war. We met a woman of Greek heritage whose two great aunts starved to death on one of the islands. These sculptures evoked it.

Feels important to remember the not so distant history in the midst of all this beauty.

After some provisioning in the busy town of Chalkis we motored up the channel for an hour and anchored in a bay. A rather cold and grey day dawned after a quiet night. With decent wind and the seas against us we had a choppy day's travelling.
Click below to see some video clips to get an impression.
Video astern
Video ahead
'Blitzortung', the website we have come to rely on for real time updates on lightning strikes, showed numerous strikes and hence probable thunderstorms not far away. We managed to dodge the lightning striking in the hills around but didn't escape the rain. Glad to find space right at the end of the quay in the little harbour in Limni, where we were welcomed by a number of very friendly Dutch yachts.


We had probably our best meal yet of calamari, aubergines and local food under the awning of an unassuming restaurant along the quay, sheltered from the rain. However much food you order here the bill always comes to about 35 Euros. A strange phenomenon.

Onwards and northwards in the quest for sun and summer, next stop Loutra, a ferry port not far up the channel. Once again we were motoring into strong winds on the nose. Not much to report from Loutra, having not actually got off the boat at all... whoops. Paul and Jean did however and little gain was reportedly had. I had a great time watching a man and his little grandson excitedly catching very small fish, which they took home on their scooter for dinner.
Orei next - an inviting little town. As well as being a pleasant place with super-friendly 'supermarkets' (corner shops) which delivered to the boat, it has a marina with dry berths. Our neighbours on the quay were a couple from Bristol who sail a month in spring and a month in autumn, and who were leaving their boat there. Turned out later I vaguely know them. Small world, once again. The quay was right next to a sandy (unorganised) beach with showers. And in a little bus shelter type thing about 50 yards away we found 'the Bull of Orei', a phenomenal piece of sculpture from 500BC which washed up in a storm here in the 1960s.

What those artisans of old conjured from marble blocks with a chisel is truly extraordinary. How did they do it? All the dimensions are right and the flanks of the bull are literally rippling with power. And here it is, in the very place where it washed up, imprisoned in a quietly rotting bus shelter. Something very metaphoric about it.

Whilst Paul was watching England play Belgium and I was speaking to Finn on the phone the heavens suddenly opened. Luckily Jean was at base to close the hatches in the downpour. A stormy night ensued and once again I was glad to be safely on a quay.
Having had our fill of quays we headed for a bay next day where we anchored after some vacillation (a lot of wind being forecast) in 'Ormos Loutro' on the mainland, under 'Achilles Tower'. The wind did not arrive and we had a still night under a full moon after a BBQ onboard.

En route to this spot we came across some dolphins, some came up to us and swam along with us for a while. Bottlenose dolphins - so beautiful! I got some footage of them under the water, here is a still from the video, click on the link below to see the video in full.

Click HERE to see the video
With their 40 year lifespan, these mammals gestate for 12 months and keep their young with them for 4 years. They have a language of 66,000 spoken ‘words’ and recognise themselves in a mirror. The part of their brain responsible for memory is larger than ours. They remember the whistles of other dolphins they haven’t met for years, and groups of dolphins communicate with each other.
Aren’t they beautiful? So glad that they came whilst Jean was with us.

From our tranquil bay the next day we motored over to Loutraki on the island of Skopelos. Loutraki has a safe harbour and the old town of Glossa is 'just up the hill'. Following advice in the pilot book we booked a table at the restaurant and took a taxi up. The views were spectacular, the white wine beautiful and it was a real treat to spend an evening there, though the price was as steep as the descent to the harbour afterwards. The old stone road in the dusk was interesting. Very glad to get to the bottom of that one with all bodies intact and no bones broken.

Next day we found the humble remains of the Roman baths, easy to miss, right by the sea. Under piles of dry seaweed was a mosaic floor made of pebbles. So simple and beautiful. One to try at home?
Next day we mainly motored but hoisted sails for a while in light winds east to Alonissos whilst Jean was finally able to do some sunbathing.

We found a peaceful bay where we ended up staying two nights. Here is Paul on the phone to Reuben, newly employed in his technical sales job in Cambridge.

During the last leg of our trip with Jean over to Skiathos Paul finally completed the installation of the new GPS system with a bit of help from his friends.

Arriving in Skiathos we found a place on a pontoon and after some retail therapy we had a great meal at a small pizza place. Not to forget the excitement of a penalty shootout between England and Colombia. The rest is soon to be history.

17th-20th June

From Poros we headed westward to meet Jean near Athens. First stop Sounion, a bay by a temple to Poseidon. The bay was rather rocky in the night with the incoming swell, but the view was good.

Next morning we took the dinghy ashore and walked up to the site. I say site, for actually the temple was just a small part of what was in fact a major fortification to defend the capital and the silver mines of the Athenian city-state from invaders. Poseidon Earth Shaker could change fortunes not only by whipping up a storm but also through earth quakes. Would have been a key figure to have on your side.

I enjoyed the graffiti. Visitors from May 1813 had beaten us to it.

After a coffee in the temple precinct we headed for Kea, the northern-most island in the Cyclades, and spent a couple of nights on the quay in the large natural harbour. The island did not seem the most attractive. Newly built and unfinished holiday homes on barren land litter its slopes. Only two hours away from the capital it is an easy destination for the weekend and so is popular with Athenian tourists. It felt rather soulless somehow. And there was no water on the quay either. Things looked up when Paul found a pleasant nearby beach with shady trees and public showers, an easy cycle ride away.


We went for a cycle ride along the coast. The open air industrial museum was rather rusty.

This vehicle needs an oil change.

We read that the old town of Ioulis (or Ioulida) higher up on the island was worth seeing. A 10km distance but no buses running yet. They only run in 'the holiday season'. So we thought we would see how far we could get on our bicycles. We ended up following the old road.

Fortunately the bikes fold up so can be carried when they can no longer carry us.

The hike repaid our efforts.

Every single hillside on the island was ridged with terraces for cultivation. It is hard to imagine the amount of work and effort that has gone in over the centuries to build and maintain these terraces.

We persevered up the old road and eventually rejoined the newer and rather more functional if less atmospheric asphalted road, where we stopped to get a drink at what must be the most dramatically and beautifully placed Lidl the world will ever know. I can't find out how high above sea level Ioulis is but I would not recommend cycling. It was worth it though.

Cars and mopeds are left outside the old town, which proved very charming. I love the way the children play in the streets and squares here. Nobody bats an eyelid about them kicking a ball about near the restaurant.

Over dinner we spoke to Reuben

He had just been offered a job!

... and the world cup was on (but no, I don't know who was playing).

The journey back was rather faster. We got home just after sunset, with our trusty dynamos lighting the way.

7th - 17th June

It's raining in Poros. Pouring in fact. Cats and dogs.

Talking cats, when dropping anchor yesterday I glanced over the side and saw a beautiful ginger one float by, tail up, as if it were just walking along. A bit odd, unused to seeing death as we are.
This morning however there was a large and very alive octopus. Just a meter or two away, walking along the harbour wall. When I came off the boat to try to film it up close it started blending into the background. When I walked away again it transformed itself back and continued its journey along the wall. I could see its eyes opening and closing! Big eyes.
Click HERE to see the cephalopod

When it rains it really does rain. The heavens open. There's often thunder in the hills, rumbling away.. I can understand how Zeus, being boss god, was the God of thunder. The clouds towering over the mountains and his threatening rumbles are quite anxiety inducing. Puts me in my place. Where will he strike next? Will it be us...?

Poros is a charming town in a large natural harbour / bay. Yachts and motoryachts line the quay, one bigger than the next. Not far from Athens and a destination for the jet set in motor yachts, which aren't built for any seas or wind.

Uniformed staff are at the ready, rag in hand, shining up the metal work and buffing the GRP. Many boats have lights illuminating the sea below at night. Looks quite cool but must be confusing for sea creatures.

There are chandleries in Poros and in less than 24 hours Paul has succeeded in getting a new UV strip stitched onto the genoa, had a replacement piece of wood made to measure for the grabrail by the companionway, got some jackstays made, and sourced a windshoot to keep us cool at night. Paul is a quietly effective fellow. If I happen to ask him what he is doing when I spot him furkling around with something, he says things like "I'm just 'recalibrating the flux gate compass' / 'changing the thermister in the log sender for a fixed resistor' / 'replacing the first stage fuel filter'. Or words to that effect. White man speak with forked tongue. I reply 'Mmhmm...'
Or he might say 'I'm having a butcher's at the anchor'. I did actually ask him what he meant then and he had to google it himself. ('Butcher's hook' = 'look' in Cockney rhyming slang.) When I ponder whether we might be more frugal, he comments 'it's not worth spoiling the ship for a ha'purth (half penny's worth) of tar'. Disarming. I put it down to the Blarney Stone, a gift that just keeps on giving. Paul and I both kissed it when we went to Blarney Castle in County Cork but it hasn't had same effect on me. It's an ancestral thing I guess. Generations behind him probably kissed it. I don't know why you have to kiss it backwards lying down though. Bit odd.

Anyway, where were we? From Monemvasia where we left you last, we headed up north in the Argolic Gulf, stopping for a night in the bay of Fokia, tempted by the description 'wonderful wild surroundings' in the pilot book. Since then a road has been cut into the hills like a deep wound.

In the time we were there we saw one single car drive along this road. Who has paid and what possible economic benefit can justify this irrevocable act..? The bay is still lovely though if you look the other way.

From there we went east and dropped the hook in a bay on the island of Spetzes, near the beautiful sailing vessel 'Puritan'. The unmistakeable aroma of cigars drifted delicately downwind to us.

Google tells us that the boat was built in 1931 and is now a charter with six staff, available to hire for 6,500 Euros a night. Aha. Explains the cigars... Checking the forecast however we decided to head for safe harbour in Porto Cheli where we spent a windy night after a swim and dinner onboard, returning to Spetzes the next day. A beautiful town and the setting of John Fowles' book 'The Magus'. It is favoured holiday destination for Greek people, with a touch of the Italian riviera. No cars, only mopeds, bicycles, pedestrians and horsedrawn carriages for the tourists. Anything and everything appears to be transportable by moped in Greece: chickens, dogs, babies, any number of children, infirm elderly relatives, trays of take away coffee, you name it.

We found space on the corner of a tiny quay in the harbour, a small but perfectly formed confusion of rusting hulks, tiny fishing boats, superyachts, wooden schooners, working boatyards and smart waterside restaurants.

Nice pebble mosaics all around town.


Inevitably for such an attractive place there was competition for space on the quay. Slightly nervewracking to watch not only one but two charter boat reverse into the narrow space between us and our neighbour from across the harbour. All's well that ends well.

Turning northwards we headed for Navplion at the top of the Argolic Gulf. After a long motor we dropped anchor in Drevpanou bay, passing this lovely chapel at the entrance.

Unusually there were two Norwegian boats next to us, one of them with a group of older men. Next morning when we arrived in Navplion they were already there. Paul struck up conversation upon which it emerged that one was a neighbour of mine in early childhood, and another a good friend of my father's. A nice but discombobulating little time/space warp, a bulging of the past into the present. But time of course is not linear. I have been chewing on that for 30 years.

Back to Navplion. Well. Just another astoundingly beautiful place. It was considered alongside Athens when a capital city was needed after Greek independence just under 200 years ago. A lucky escape perhaps: With only 3500 inhabitants it retains its original character and charm. More Venetian castles - one on a islet at the entrance to the harbour,

and one on top of a 200m hill. Below is the view from our boat on the quay.

We got up early to climb the steps. The fortification was ambitious but built in just the four years of 1711-1715, utilising all the latest strategic military/architectural knowledge. Venice must have been peeved when it was lost to the Turks just before completion.

Struggling through a low doorway into small dark hole, then through another small stone opening, we visited 'the prison of Kolokotronis'. Basically a hole in the rock with no light. We humans keep each other in such places. Knowing this and being in such a place are two different things. Kolokotronis was a General and a hero of the Greek war of independence who later spent 6 months in solitary confinement here accused of treason.

The archeological museum in Navplion was a window into the lives of the Myceneans of 1600-1100 BC, the era of the Iliad and Odyssey, when palaces / forts were centres of commerce and their rulers became very rich. Gold death masks have been found. Here is Paul inspecting a warrior's bronze armour.

He had a leather helmet covered in ivory from boars' tusks, showing off his prowess in the hunt as well as providing protection from the opponent's sword, which looks like it could do some damage.

Having just read the Odyssey (....did I mention that..?) it was fascinating to see the ceramics and jewellery and domestic things that adorned the palaces described therein. How colourful this ancient past was. The women of the palaces must have looked stunning in their necklaces and bracelets of gold and coloured stones.



They were able to check themselves in polished bronze mirrors with ivory handles, and brush their hair with delicately toothed ivory combs.

Foods were stored in colourful and elegantly shaped pots.


No doubt they also had beautifully woven and coloured clothes. The miniature clay figures of women holding babies imply that they wore garments of striped cloth.

I wondered at this tiny army of horned cows. Were they for the children or perhaps interred with a prince to give him provisions and status in the afterlife?

Navplion was charming at night and we had a lovely meal out and a wander round the town. In the morning I finally stepped up to the mark and did some manouvering practice at the wheel, reversing onto and coming alongside the quay. Good to know it's doable. With the wind on the nose again we motored south to a bay by 'Seagull island' as we called it, and then the next day on to another very lovely sheltered spot between some islands (Nisis Spathi) just past Hydra. A good night for stargazing. We watched Castor and Pollux sink below the horizon as Scorpio rose, and then went night swimming. The fluorescent algae lit up with the movement of our limbs. Odd seeing your legs as shadows in the underwater light. Lovely and mysterious how the fluorescent sparks in the depths below mirror the starry firmament above.

Back to mundane reality, next day we spent some hours adressing a blocked pooh shoot in the holding tank, with each of us in turn swimming round the side of the boat and poking a hose up into the outlet in the hope of relieving the constipation. This of course carries the risk of being covered in sudden emissions. The strategy however proved fruitless I'm glad to report, but after a variety of other determined interventions Paul managed to solve the problem as is his way. Glad to be able to sport a fully functioning toilet again.
And so we came to Poros. We spent the first night right outside the town's only two nightclubs. We moved to the church for the second night, having forgotten how early they start ringing their bells on a Sunday morning. Beautiful church though!

I now have greatly increased confidence in the powers of our windlass, yesterday having pulled up our anchor with not only another chain and anchor attached to it, but also a large heavy rock cemented on by grey clay. We managed to get out of this tangle easily enough but had a fair few other mooring shenanigans with Italian, Polish and German boats, fortunately emerging unmarked. In Poros we also bumped into a lovely British/Canadian family on a boat we have met before, with two children of whom one has Down's Syndrome. The people we meet and hearing and sharing some of their adventures is all part of the magic melée.

In the little archeological museum in Poros these tiny clay figures helped me understand how Prometheus would have fashioned the first humans like this, out of clay, in the image of the gods.


Tiny things - the male figure no bigger than my thumb - but made with such artistry that when Athene breathed on them they came to life. The purpose of which was to provide Zeus with some entertainment.
I can see how from the peaks of Mount Olympus where Zeus was sitting, humans must seem like playthings. Just look at the tiny things swimming in the sea here.

5th - 7th June

After our intrepid rounding of the Tip of Doom we found space on a quay in Monemvasia, where we ended up staying for 3 nights. After rocky nights at anchor we needed sleep, but initially sleep was postponed by heat. The southerly winds are strange and debilitating, hypnotic, time slows down and not much is able to take place. When the heat lifts it is as if waking from a slumber.

The harbour in Monemvasia turned out to be a great spot for turtle watching.


Three turtles come every day, following the fishing boats. Turtles are not vegetarians. The fishermen have names for them. One of them is called Christina.
Click HERE for Paul's turtle footage

I decided to dive in and try a bit of underwater photography with the waterproof camera Jean gave us. In my excitement I pressed video instead so have some rather wobbly footage which includes me following the turtle under the pontoon, a briefly claustrophobic experience. One of the wobbly video moments was when I felt a dead fish glide slimily over my shoulder.
See swimming with turtles HERE

Monemvasia gave us not only turtle action however but the gift of free water on the quay. Time to do some laundry. Good drying weather.

With the heat, the turtles and the laundry it took us a while to explore the old town of Monemvasia. The town was built on an island accessible only by a causeway from the mainland, hence its name meaning 'single entrance'. All motorised vehicles are left at the entrance.


How this is not a World Heritage Site beats me. It is singular. Another one of these ancient fortifications built on unimpregnable topology but this one is another level of astounding. The island rises straight out of the sea on all sides, and the town looks carved into the rock rather than crafted from it. The dwellings, the rock, the earth and the vegetation blend together in a subtle colourful medley, in this dramatic setting. It is just stunningly beautiful.


The town goes back to the Byzantinoes of 600BC but was expanded and adapted by the Venetians and the Turks in turn, churches being turned into mosques and back again. The fortifications at the top enclosed a town that has now all but crumbled apart from some water cisterns and a church.

The entrance to the upper fortifications is impressive.

Click HERE to see the view
How would anyone dare to even think they could take this place by force? There are still rusty bullet holes in the heavy door testifying to past attempts. Invasions did succeed. Maybe using some of these cannon balls.

The lower town is a patchwork of cobbled alleys between tiny two story houses, many of which have been converted into boutique hotels, restaurants, cafes, shops, and holiday homes, but there are also still some permanent dwellings occupied by locals and a number of churches that appear very much in use.



Quite a few foreigners own homes here in which they live for some of the year and are welcomed as part of the community, if we are to believe a waiter we spoke to. A shuttle bus runs into the new settlement on the other side of the causeway where there are shops, a school etc. But how to properly describe the beauty of the place? It defies belief and description.

Fare thee well Monemvasia

2nd - 5th June

Cape Malea, the eastern and southernmpst tip of the Peloppenes, known onboard Wonderer as 'the Tip of Doom', is notoriously treacherous and difficult to navigate, featuring variable weather and occasionally very powerful storms. This is where Odysseus was blown off course for 10 years on his route back to Ithaca from Troy. To round or not to round? After much vacillation and numerous consultations we went for it.

Heading south east from Kalamata along the mountainous range of the Mani peninsula the mountainous landscape became drier with steep cliffs falling into the sea. The coastline is dramatic and inhospitable, with few bolt holes and bays in which to seek shelter. We had a calm day's motoring however down to the old village and bay of Limeni which offers some shelter. We found room on the small quay next to another couple of yachts, with an unsettled night of rough seas however. The scenery in the bay was so worth it though. The 'neo-Maniote' architecture was very different from the Venetian feel of the first finger of the Peloppenese. Grey stone houses with tiny windows and towers, each dwelling like a small castle. Cycling round the bay to the village of Limeni was very picturesque.

Swimming off the quay we saw a giant turtle swimming in the waves nearby with remarkable agility, so different from seeing turtles on land. Astonishing to discover that these 'loggerhead' or Caretta Caretta turtles, the world's largest hard-shelled turtle, are relatives of the early dinosaurs and have been on the planet for 250 million years. They are currently listed as Threatened, meaning likely to become in danger of extinction in the foreseeable future. Adult length is typically 80-110cm and they live for 45-67 years. They migrate great distances, but return to the beach of their own hatching - for mating and breeding. How do they navigate so well? Apparently an iron compound in their brain called magnetite allows them to perceive the earth's magnetic field for navigation. They also navigate by sight. Fascinating to be introduced to this extraordinary species.

I digress. But that is the beauty of this journey, to be digressed by such wonderful things.

By the time we got to the tip of the Mani peninsula and rounded the lighthouse we were under sail in a gentle breeze.

As soon as we jibed round the tip the wind started gusting off the headland at 26 knots. With two reefs in the main and the genoa furled to the size of a handkerchief we were still sailing fast. Our destination Porto Kayio was not far away, we were glad to head into calmer waters in this bay.

Our first anchor drop was on rocky ground and did not hold so after our second I dived down to have a look at the holding. Once only. Our washing line now doubles as a depth gauge with a weight on the end. Your ears hurt when you dive that deep! It was only 5 meters. It's a mystery to me how people free dive at such great depths. Current record 214 meters. Apparently they remain intact and alive afterwards.

In Porto Kayio the barrenness of this region really came home to us. The stark, tower-like houses in grey stone with small windows were the same style as in Limeni and very different from the Venetian feel of the first finger in the Peloppenese.


The barren bleakness of this mountainous region must have contributed to the piracy and violent vendettas that characterised these parts in centuries past.

Wikipedia: 'Usually, the decision to start a vendetta was made at a family gathering. The main aim of a vendetta was usually to wipe out the other family. The families involved locked themselves in their towers and whenever they got the chance murdered members of the opposing family. The other families in the village normally locked themselves in their towers in order not to get in the way of the fighting. Some vendettas went on for months, sometimes years. In vendettas, the families could have a truce or treva, if one family needed to attend a religious ceremony or when it was time to harvest the crops. As soon as the treva ended, the killing could resume. Vendettas usually ended when one family was exterminated or when the defeated family left the town.'

Explains the architecture! And of course the ancestors of the Maniots were the Spartans, the highly trained warriors of ancient Greece. We are in the Laconic Gulf. When Philip 2nd invaded southern Greece and other city-states had surrendered, he sent this message to Sparta: 'You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city. The Spartans replied: "If". Their Laconic peninsula is an impressively forbidding place.

Secure at anchor but a fairly lumpy night later we set off east across the Laconic Gulf heading for The Island of Anxiety, or Elaphonissos as it is also known, the last stop before rounding Cape Malea. A calm crossing with a mix of engine and sail, we were blessed by a visit of a pod of 7-8 meter-long dolphins come for a spot of bowriding. They swam with us for what seemed like ages and must have been 10 minutes, keeping pace with us like arrows inches from right and left of the bow and, weaving in and out in front or peeling off to the side, only to join again later.
Click HERE to see the dolphins swimming
It was such a joy. We could clearly see their breathing hole open and close as they came to the surface for air, and as they turned to the side we saw their eyes. We also spotted the strangest thing: a large blue-grey fish attached to the dolphin! One dolphin had two such fish attached, I could see the eye of the fish as it raced through the water attached to the dolphin. So bizarre. They must have been 'Remora fish', looking up at us with their hair slicked back lying flat against the side of the dolphin as it raced along beside our bow. Remoras have evolved large suction cups to attach to an individual dolphin or shark for up to 3 months at a time.

The 'Island of Anxiety' presented as fairly harmless and very beautiful indeed.

Once again a very rolling night however, before setting off in the much calmer waters and no wind of the morning to round the dread Cape Malea by motor in flat calm (as below).

We did it!
Spot the tiny white buildings?
A monastery.

26th May - 2nd June

With a following wind we sailed into Kalamata marina on Saturday morning and an hour later Alex arrived. We were just having a well earned midday beer - Alex recovering from having stayed up all night to catch his early flight, me recovering from bungling the berthing, and Paul just enjoying his beer - when an ominous crunching of metal on fibreglass came from our bow. A British yacht attempting to get on the quay next to us had blown onto our bow anchor. After much ineffectual commotion with people jumping off and on neighbouring boats to assist he ended up with the mooring line wrapped around his keel. The helpful and friendly marina man who appeared to do everything around the place said 'You need a diver! Wait I will get one!', rode off on his moped and came back 2 minutes later in his speedos. The situation was finally resolved by superman 'Security Guy' as his boss referred to him. Security Guy basically ran the place whilst his boss appeared entirely surplus to requirements.

After a night at the marina we set off for Koroni where we anchored in the bay and went in our dinghy ('Tenderer') to check out the local beer and have a look at the town and castle. Wondering slightly whether Tenderer and her brand new outboard would still be there on the slipway in the harbour on our return, we set off for an anchor dram in the square by the harbour, and then found our way up to the castle.


The castle is spectacular, one of the furthest outposts of the Venetian occupation of Greece. The western finger of the Peloppenese is littered with these 'eyes of Venice'. The castles were often built by (or usurped by) the Venetians - or even Byzantines before them, then taken over by the Ottomans, then again by Venetians, then again by Ottomans, before falling into disrepair after the Greek won independence in the 1830. Or so I think. It's a lot to get your head around.



One of the nice things about Greece is the laissez faire nature of things. The castle is free to walk about in, with a few inhabited houses and a church with graveyard inside the castle walls. Any indications of where the ground drops off hundreds of feet into the blue sea are cursory, and perhaps more accurately described as trip hazards. One or two rusty signs warn of unspecified danger, this one featuring bullet holes.

Koroni is also an attractive town. We had a great meal in a restaurant cornering the harbour.

Next day we headed for the bay of Marathos. Difficult to find just going by the charts but spotted in passing. We were very fortunate to have this beautiful bay and beach to ourselves overnight. There was something strange about it though, unnatural: there was no rubbish. We theorised about tides and winds but it didn't take much foraying to realise that someone must have done a full beach clean very recently, for in the bushes behind the beach I picked three bags full, duly deposited in the bins at our next stop.

In Marathos we had the perfect opportunity to try out our new inflatable stand-up paddle board. This proved really good fun and a surprisingly effective way of getting about. An evening of BBQ on board and a quiet night at anchor under a rising almost-full moon topped the day.

The next day we headed off again in light winds as we had all week, for the town of Methoni with its truly spectacular Venetian/Ottoman castle on the south-western tip of the Peloppenese. Photos do not do it justice.

It always seems strange that the towns inside the castle walls have been abandoned, nowhere more so than here where no buildings were still standing apart from a small church with a beautifully simple interior. Paul lit a candle in memory of Phil. He would have loved it there. He was with us at that moment.
Kastro taverna supplied a most delicious meal of lamb woth sage and honey. After a night in the bay we headed for Pylos, where it was quiet enough to drop the anchor for an afternoon stop just inside the breakwater cliffs and Alex and I took Tenderer for an explore. Tethering Tenderer to the tiny landing quay for the lighthouse we climbed the winding steps cut into the stone, thinking of those who cut these steps in the first place and how in earth they did it.
On top we found not only the lighthouse and the ruins of the keeper's house but a monument to the French troops who fell here in the battle of Navarinho Bay, in the Greek war of Independence. We also took Tenderer for a turn in one of the caves... eerily spectacular.
Click
Crossing the bay to the town of Pylos we found space and moored side to the quay and had dinner onboard.


Paul and I even laid on a duet for Alex under the rising full moon.

Before heading west next day we decided to visit a bay further north 'Ormos Voidokholos'. This proved a place that has to be seen to be believed, with sand dunes rising high up the sides of the hills towards the mouth of a huge cave. Having just finished reading the Odyssey I was looking forward to seeing 'sandy Pylos', and was disappointed by the rocky shores of present-day Pylos. But here was this beautiful sandy bay just round the corner, the perfect shape and position for a harbour in times when they pulled boats up the beach, and here was Nestor's cave too, the Nestor whom Odysseus' son travelled to 'Sandy Pylos' to see. So evocative.
Nestor's cave is also mentioned in the Odyssey as where Nestor kept his cattle, and may also be the very cave where Hermes hid the golden cows after stealing them from Apollo. The dark inside is broken only by a tiny skylight. The cave is cavernous - 20x16 meters wide and 30 meters high.
IMAGE
Last stop Finikounda, a pleasant little place where we anchored in the bay and went ashore for a taverna meal, befire heading back to Kalamata the next day to drop Alex. On the last leg we even had some good sailing wind so ticked that box as well.