Firstly, an apology for the elapsed time since the last post. When sailing you get a very water-centric view of the world and you can forget just how remote some of the places we visit are. Greece, with its cellphone limitations, has brought this home to us. We have had periods of days without cellphone access or access that is so slow (Do people really still use “2G”? Isn’t that where some guy in a uniform delivers you an envelope on a silver tray and waits for a reply?) that most of the websites we use won’t even let us access them. So a blog post has had to wait until we were back in a good coverage zone. Sorry!
But perhaps it’s a benefit. The Ionian is a beautiful sailing area but it’s not full of great architecture or places of any particular interest. The charm comes from the small villages and remote anchorages (hence the limited cellphone service) along with the perfect blue sea and, almost always, cloudless skies. So this blog entry while still maintaining a chronology will be less of a tour synopsis and more of impressions and sense of place.
We haven’t been in Greece for three years so it’s good to be back. This is where Lori got the sailing “bug” and we want to see how much our perspectives have changed as we have become (hopefully) more capable and confident. Another objective is to spend more time anchoring and less time in marinas. This is not possible in Italy where most of the overnights are in custom-built marinas.
The first thing that has struck us is the similarity between Greece and Croatia. There are significant differences also but there are more similarities than we expected. There are plenty of rugged islands to visit with old harbors and bays where we can tie up or anchor. The islands and the landscape in general in Croatia are more barren whereas Greece offers a good mix of rocky islands, natural forests and olive groves. There are simple tavernas with unsophisticated, limited, but good, food. Typically, the weather is a little more aggressive in Croatia than it is in the Ionian but, as we shall see, the Ionian can flex its muscles from time to time.
The commercial differences are quite marked. In Greece, they have recently introduced (pretty nominal) charges for mooring on many of the town quays and, even in high season, the marina charges are very reasonable compared with Italy and Croatia (compared to Croatia they are about 40% less). Croatia has put in a lot of dedicated infrastructure and they seem bent on recouping their investments as soon as possible.
But for us the objective for the next few weeks is to be “far from the grid.”
So our first stop after Corfu is in a little bay just north of Igoumenitsa (the major mainland ferry port for Corfu). We are perhaps 5 - 10 miles away from it but the bay is tranquil and quiet except for the background hum of the cicadas. We are one of four boats anchored here.The only other people we see are focal fishermen There is a herd of sleepy cows on the shore who look like they could do with a cool place to stand. The bottom of the bay is muddy so the water is not the clear turquoise that we expect to see farther south.
Our plan was to meander down the coast and go through the canal at Lefkas into the inner Ionian. Mother nature had other ideas. The next big storm was coming down the Adriatic and prudence dictated that we be somewhere safe before it arrived. There are only two options - Lefkas and Preveza. Preveza is where we kept our boat for the first three winters so we know it well. It is great marina but it is exposed to wind and swell from the west and, of course, that is where the weather is forecast to come from.
So we make the (only) choice and head for Lefkas. It’s a long 9-hour day with a complication at the end. Lefkas describes itself as an “island” and it is - sort of. It is really part of the mainland but separated by a canal first built by the Corinthians a few thousand years ago. There is a road bridge across this canal that only opens to boats once every hour. So the penalty for timing it even slightly wrong is a tedious and tricky wait for the next opening time.
We time it perfectly and get through on the earlier of our two projected opening times. We get tucked in and wait for the storm to arrive - which it does overnight. But we are safe and snug.
Lefkas is a fair-sized traditional Greek harbor town that has developed a tourism-based economy serving holiday makers who visit the island and its beaches as well as yacht people who spend a night or two in the marina. The marina has also become a dauntingly large base for Sunsail (a yacht chartering operation). The good thing about this is that Lefkas can offer a good number of restaurants but, sadly, many don’t offer a selection that goes much beyond gyros and souvlaki. But overall it’s a more vibrant place to be than most towns in the Ionian.
Sailing is not all fun and excitement in the sun; sometimes there are chores and problems; sometimes there are nasty problems which turn into even nastier chores.
The faint-stomached among you may choose to skip the next paragraph or so. Our problem was that our toilet was not flushing properly (and eventually not at all). The usual cause of this symptom is a failure of the euphemistically-named “joker valve” - this is designed to stop waste products (another euphemism) creeping back into the bowl. According to the manufacturer it is a job that takes “five to ten minutes”. And they’re right IF you have the toilet on a work bench at the appropriate level with plenty of space around to effect t the change.
Our boat builder (Beneteau) put it in a place where you either have to be able to stand on your head for long periods of time or you can enlist the help of a passing eight-year old. Greek labor laws (totally unreasonably in my opinion) prohibit the use of children for this kind of work and i was never any good at anything that even mildly resembled gymnastics. (Lori was good a this kind of thing in high school but somehow she does not offer to take on the task, murmuring things like “captain’s job”).
So I relax the “five-to-ten minute” goal.
An hour later, I have with much sweat replaced the joker valve (which looked just fine) and the problem remains unresolved. Gnashing of teeth and rending of raiment.
Over the winter, we installed an additional line flushing mechanism to deal with situations like this. This covered nearly all of the lines in our system and we try it multiple times to no avail.
Remember that “nearly” in the previous sentence? Guess what line it didn’t flush? Yup! An email exchange with the boat yard acrimoniously confirms that they thought this was out of scope.
The only recourse now is to take the discharge line apart. Again a small but very strong child would be ideal for this task but those labor laws ….. How can they be so behind the times with telecommunications but right on the spot when it comes getting small kids to do dirty work?
And it really is dirty work - a big part of the problem here is that when you disconnect the discharge line, they warn you that there are likely to be waste products (that euphemism, again) still lurking therein and a hazmat suit is your best line of defense. Failing that, rubber gloves must suffice.
So inadequately protected, I start on the task. It is not easy. Why do Beneteau put things where they do? To torture boat owners? Or perhaps provide job opportunities for small children in less liberal countries?
Eventually I get it apart and as you can see it is, by any measure, blocked. Don’t ask what the crystalline deposits are, you don’t want to know (but I’m sure you already do).
Nasty chemicals are very useful for dissolving this stuff and again rubber gloves are an essential part of one’s ensemble. But for the lines themselves, the best thing to do is to beat them on the ground to dislodge the crystalline build up. I always wondered where the phrase “beat the shit out of something” came from and now I guess I do.
A couple of re-assembly hours later, problem solved and everything is working fine.
The faint-stomached may rejoin at this point.
Our next destination is large bay just south of here where there is a “yacht club” run by the people who used look after our boat when she was here. To get there, we have to travel down the length of the Lefkas canal. This used to be a little stressful because the narrow canal was poorly dredged and even more poorly marked; slight deviations from the direct line could run you aground or, worse still, bring about a close encounter a “channel marker” which closely resembled partially submerged metal fenceposts.
This season there are shiny new markers which look like (and are) real buoys and the channel has been widened and deepened. Super-yachts can bring about change for good, I guess.
Lori feels confident enough to take us down through the canal and makes the trip without any problems whatsoever. South of the canal, unusually for this time of day, we find about 15 knots of wind and we have a great couple of hours sailing True Colors at 8 knots across the wide and surprisingly uncrowded Ionian.
We park at the Vliho Yacht Club and greet old friends and acquaintances who all seem to be thriving despite our absence.
Our plan is to spend the next two nights at anchor in a couple of spots that we can recall from our previous trips. The first is a beautiful cove on the small island of Kastos. We are lucky no-one is there yet and we get to drop our anchor in the middle of the small cove. A couple of boats park near us later but don’t impact the tranquility of our situation.
After a peaceful night we make a short trip across to a sheltered bay on the mainland. The main claim to fame of this shallow bay is that once twenty or so years ago the author of the definitive pilot book for the Ionian claims he saw a buzzard here. To our knowledge, no-one else has ever seen one and quite a few sailors wonder just what Rod was drinking that night and if he really knows what a buzzard looks like.
It’s a great bay to park in and is generally well-sheltered from the prevailing winds. While the winds are not forecast to be strong, we nevertheless make sure that our anchor is well dug in. This turns out to be a wise move. The winds pick up and are gusting over 25 knots from a direction that is slightly more to the north than usual and consequently the anchorage is not as well-protected as usual.
We are fine, but other boats are not. One tries to anchor and has to change its position three times before they feel secure. Two others also have to relocate. The wind blows all night (which is unusual) but by the morning it is settling down a bit and we have a quiet motor sail across to Sami on Cephalonia.
Cephalonia in general and Sami in particular was the location for the film based on the book “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” which established Nicholas Cage as a Hollywood star. While some can forgive the filmmakers for this dreadful error, the book and the film are controversial in their own right for their portrait of Cephalonians and their history. This is not a topic where the innocent visitor lacking a nuanced understanding of the times can tread unwarily, so we leave it alone.
The town is a lower-key, smaller and more workaday version of Lefkas - a good blend of traditional working town and tourist-driven economy. Its quayside restaurants are lively and thriving with great local specialties like Kleftiko and Stifado widely available and a welcome change from the usual Greek grilled food staples.
The inter-island ferry parks close to the marina. This is a pretty flamboyant affair. For its short stay, it does not even bother to anchor or tie up. It just backs up to close to the quayside drops its ramp and lets people cars and large trucks drive on and off without being secure in any fashion. (How can you have child labor laws and yet permit this deeply unsafe practice?)
When it stays longer, it does tie up and anchor. However, this is achieved by driving to about one and a half ferry-lengths from the quay, dropping the anchor and pirouetting 180 degrees on the chain until the stern is neatly lined up against the quay. Then they tie up. It’s kind of like a ferry version of a hockey-stop. I wonder how many ferries they dent when a new captain is learning the ropes?
We head next for the adjacent island of Ithaka - the legendary home of Odysseus (he of the Odyssey fame).
And on the way we encounter another example of the problems of modern-day rich and famous people. As we make our way to the capital, Vathi, we scout out a bay where we might anchor. It is filled with a 295-foot super-yacht called Lionheart which is owned by Sir Philip Green.
It set him back about $150m. For this trivial sum 12 guests and 30 crew can enjoy the Greek islands in seclusion. However, parked next to it there is another super yacht a little more than half its size.
You have to think they’re saying something like “Bummer.”
But wait a moment, this yacht was designed by Sir Philip’s wife, Tina.
So here’s another one of those conversations that don’t make sense to the rest of us.
“Hey, dear I’m getting a little bored and I need a project.”
“That’s nice dear. Do you have anything in mind?”
“Err, yes. I’d like to design a yacht.”
“But we have a yacht.”
“I know, but i want to design another.”
“Don’t you like our yacht? Our $150m yacht.”
“Of course I do but I want another one to play with, I mean, work on”.
“I’m not made of money. Well, actually I am. But my point is still valid. Do you have someone who will fund the project and eventually buy the boat?”
“Of course, dear”.
“Who is it?”
“Err, your 21 year-old son would like to talk to you about that.”
So, if the rumors are true, the Green family cannot spend a night on the same super-yacht as each other. But they still appreciate the benefits of really, really, really expensive family time.
Kioni is one of the nicest little villages in the whole of the Ionian. It is a little touristy but on such a small scale that it retains its charm and atmosphere.
It is so nice that it’s usually hard to find a good parking spot on the quay. But this year people are saying that boat numbers are down and, as a consequence, we find a nice location on the quay and decide to stay two nights.
On the hill above the town is one of the possible locations of Odysseus palace. No trace remains but some artifacts from the time have been found.
Kioni is still a fishing town and where there are fish on lan d you will find cats; where there are fish restaurants you will find plenty of cats.
Some are cuter than others, of course.
Mother Nature intervenes again and another storm is forecast. The Ionian doesn’t have many marinas and only some town quays are safe in storms. So we decide to head way south almost into the Gulf of Corinth to a town called Messolonghi. Those of you who know your poetry may recall that this is where the English romantic poet, Lord Byron, died while he was fighting in the Greek War of Independence. It would be nice to say that he died while fighting off hordes of Turks. But no - he drowned while swimming on one of his days off. Not so “romantic” but he still gets a suitably martial statue, anyway.
Messolonghi is located on salt marshes and lagoons and hence is great for sea food. The quality attracts all sorts of visitors and locals. This local was snacking just at the back of our boat; he/she was about five feet long. This close that is BIG.
We spend the next few days at anchor in a couple of spots with perfect water for swimming.
But today there is an added bonus. In her usual way, Lori strikes up a casual conversation with a passing Israeli ex-police officer on a paddle-board.
“I’ve never been on one of those before”, she says meaningfully.
Soon she is off on the board solo.
Despite the fact that she does well and does not fall in, I am prohibited from publishing any pictures here. However, those of you seeking some kind of record of this epic event may visit www.makecolinscottarichmanfund.com and purchase hard copies in a range of sizes.
It is now time to head back through the canal on our way north to pick up our Italian friend, Alphonso. He is looking to make a long night passage and we have offered him and his son a place on our boat as we make the trip back to Italy.