Wherein the gods remind us who’s in charge

Our intention was to make the crossing from Corfu to Italy with our friend Alphonso and his son Fabrizio. Alphonso had been looking forward to this trip for some time. The plan was for them to catch an overnight ferry from Brindisi to Corfu, meet us in the morning, and sail back with us overnight to the Italian coast.

If this starts to sound like the Odyssey, it was starting to feel like it too.

The weather was not being entirely cooperative. There was a window that we might squeeze through that would give us a good sail across the Adriatic. But after that it looked like there would be four or five days when a crossing would not be possible. On the night of their departure, we got a text from Alphonso saying that their ferry had broken down and would not now be able to leave until the next day. The sound you hear is the gods snickering.

The problem was that, while on paper they lost only twelve hours, it would actually take 24 hours for us to leave because of the opening hours of the customs offices (who would authorize us to leave the country). The sound you now hear is that of a window closing.

Lori and I looked at the immediate weather forecast and concluded that we ourselves would not make a night crossing in these conditions and most certainly should not make it with a 10 year-old crew member. So, to everyone’s disappointment, we cancelled.

This created a couple of problems for us too. The trip to Italy was a precursor to our onward travels to Sicily. Losing five days at this point in the season makes it challenging to get to Sicily and back in time for the end of the season. We will have to monitor this closely. I want to get to Sicily!

The second problem was that marinas tend to get full at weekends with their charter customers changing over. So there are few places for ordinary boats like us. And in this case, there were no berths available at all. Lori was, quite reasonably, not in favor of spending three or four nights at anchor with 30 knot winds in the forecast.

So where to go? The storms were forecast to be to our north and west, so we couldn’t go there. There are no marinas and very few sheltered harbors on the remote Greek coast to our east. So the only option was going back south again into the more sheltered waters east of the island of Lefkas ….. where we just came from.

“Stop snickering up there, you gods. This is not really funny.”

“Oh yes it is … from our perspective. You have been reading your Odyssey haven’t you? So you know we’ve got a lot more where that came from. Do you have any plans for the next twenty years or so?”

“OK. OK!”

On the way south we aim to spend the night in a bay that we haven’t used before. It is well-sheltered from the prevailing winds and the direction of any storm. As we cross the last few miles the wind starts to increase and we have nearly 20 knots and a very choppy sea.

But inside the anchorage it is beautifully protected and once we have the anchor set a peaceful night follows.

The journey south has to be timed so that our arrival coincides with the opening of the bridge at the north of the Lefkas canal. We are mostly motoring in the morning so our progress is fairly predictable. Even as the winds start to pick up, our progress is still good and we make it to the entrance to the canal with a bit more that 10 minutes to spare. But this ten minutes involves waiting, not going anywhere while the wind gets back up to 20 knots. It is a delicate dance with the other boats that are waiting too. But, in the end, it’s a pretty straightforward deal.

Which is more than can be said for parking in the marina. By the time we get there, it’s blowing over 23 knots with stronger gusts. And of course it’s a crosswind.

Proper parking in this kind of situation involves backing into the wind and then into your berth. Usually it’s the second part that’s the problem. But trying to get True Colors going in reverse into this wind is a challenge. Our first attempt results in, what would be called in equestrian show jumping, a refusal. I have the throttle in almost full reverse and we can’t even make 1 knot of speed. With the help of the marinero, we reposition ourselves and start over. This time we take a run at it. True Colors seems to approve of this approach and in pretty much one smooth but speedy motion we glide into our berth and tie up. We try to look casual.

The next two days are very windy - even in the relative shelter of the marina.

For our second circuit of the Ionian, we resolve to spend as many nights as possible at anchor. We provision up and set off down the canal early to avoid the charter boats that will soon be trying to park in winds that continue to blow strongly.

Our first night is spent in one of our favorite little bays which gives Lori another opportunity to swim. She is becoming much more confident and often ventures off without her noodle! (Thank you, Jane!)

On our second night we anchor off the little island of Kastos. Lori, inspired by our President, likes the island so much that she makes a public offer to buy it.

The only locals to hear this are the goats that clamber down the cliff to forage on the beach.

They are unimpressed by the offer and keep on doing what they’ve always done. Just like the people in Greenland and Denmark.

With the true Odyssean spirit, we head on to Ithaka - his home. This time our destination is the largest town on the island, Vathi.

This is a superbly protected bay in which to anchor apart from one teensy problem - the katabatic evening winds blow directly into the mouth of the bay and regularly with speeds in excess of twenty knots. This makes for a bumpy ride for a few hours early each evening but fortunately the holding is good and the anchor digs in well.

This might be a good time for a diversion into the mysteries of anchoring.

In principle it’s easy - you take a heavy metal hook with lots of chain attached to it and throw it into the ocean (while keeping the other end attached to the boat - anyone remember “Captain Ron”?)

In practice - oh no it’s not. Firstly it’s a three dimensional problem - the boat’s location on the water, its relation to the land and the depth of the water. But to this you have to add the wind (which changes over time) and the presence of other boats (which also changes over time). So it rapidly becomes a four (or five) dimensional problem Then you add to this the behavior of other boaters and how they “solve” the same problem for their boats. And all this after a long day’s sailing and before wine!

We know a very experienced sailboat racer who will not anchor his cruising yacht because, fearful for the safety of his boat and crew, he says he could never sleep peacefully at night. And this is indeed sometimes a valid problem. If the winds gain strength overnight it can be necessary to set an “anchor watch” to pay attention to what is happening. For no matter how much tackle you have in the water there is always the possibility that the anchor will drag and you will slide sideways into an adjacent boat or, worse still, the land.

Many books have been written on this topic. One of the most famous is called “Happy Hooking”. This is not to be confused with another book (and numerous films) with very similar titles which will teach you absolutely nothing about how to spend a peaceful night at sea (or anywhere else for that matter).

Our last day in the inner Ionian is an odd one. Usually the weather pattern is a calm morning followed by moderate to winds in the afternoon. We have a long day ahead of us and are prepared to motor. But this morning there is a very pleasant 12 knots of wind blowing from the north-ish. This is where we want to go but we can beat (zig-zag) our way in the direction we want to go. This wind dies by the middle of the day only to pick up again two hours later with a boisterous 20-25 knots that give us a couple of good sailing hours in the afternoon. It was one of those days where we really felt that we were “sailing”.

After a night in Vliho (with our friends who are surprised to see us back) we are heading back north through the canal again and towards Preveza. As often happens, just north of the canal has some beautiful sailing conditions and we have some great fun sailing in the moderate swell.

In Preveza we park on to town quay. Many small Greek villages and towns by the sea have large quays which used to serve the fishing fleets. But overfishing has reduced the fleets to a fraction of their former size and, as a result, the town quays have been re-purposed to provide mooring facilities for recreational sailors. These facilities are not sophisticated or elaborate and, in particular, tend to imply that there are no officials there to help you dock. Usually, other boaters will assist if they see that you are trying to park. But today no-one appears.

I can get the boat close enough to the quay and hold her there but getting the lines ashore and back to the boat usually requires shore-based help (especially when there is just two of a crew.) However, this time it’s Lori to the rescue. Perhaps inspired by her earlier landing on Kastos, she leaps ashore, slips our first line through the ring and leaps back on to the boat and makes it fast. Then she does it again with the other line. Impressive!

Thirty seconds after she has completed this action, someone on the shore comes up and says, “Do you need any help?” We smile politely…..

We plan to spend two nights in Preveza over the weekend. And it turns out to be a very special one. Firstly it is their full-moon weekend (curiously it is not actually the full-moon) where the stores stay open until four in the morning.

There’s music and street food.

Preveza has a population of about 20,000 and it looks like pretty much all of them (even small children) are walking around long into the early hours - it is quite remarkable. We are still not sure exactly why they do this.

The second night is the Sardine Festival. Sardines are a big part of the local economy so, as the website says it is “natural” to dedicate a festival to them. I think the sardines might have preferred to go unsung as nearly two tonnes of them are consumed by the 15,000 people who typically attend.