Turkey’s Carian Coast

Tranquil Levitha may not know which island group it belongs to but noisy and barren Kalymnos is certain that it is part of the Dodecanese. It has been the sponge fishing centre of Greece since ancient times. Natural sponge is over fished in the area and the fleet has to go to North Africa now where they spend six months before returning to Kalymnos. In the Past many fishermen drowned or died of the bends due to their crude air apparatus. The trade is dying now due to sponge blight and lack of demand.
It was in Pothia harbour, Kalymnos, that we had our first experience of ‘crossed anchors’ where someone lays their anchor and chain over yours when they berth stern or bows to the dock. Three charter yachts managed to lay their chains over ours and when they came to leave in the early morning we had to instruct each of them how to untangle the anchors and chains as they had no clue whatsoever.

It is remarkable that Kos Island, the home of the illustrious lettuce, is green and fertile whereas Kalymnos, just a few miles to the north, is so unfruitful. We experienced the epitome of Mediterranean, or should I say Aegean, sailing with 22 knots of wind and throwing in a reef only to be becalmed half an hour later.
Kos Marina, the model Greek marina, has excellent facilities including personal shower rooms at 20€ per night all inclusive. The magnificent 14th to 16th century castle of the Knights of St John dominates Kos town but perhaps the town’s most notable claim to fame is that it was the 460BC birthplace of Hippocrates, the ‘father of modern medicine’. He originated the Hippocratic Oath ‘to cure rather than harm’ still sworn by medical practitioners today and is said to have written it under a plane tree, a descendant of which grows in the spot today.

The Turkish shore is less than three miles from Kos and that of their neighbour and adversary, Greece. A flag the size of a house on a prominent hill greets one on the Turkish side of the straights while the Greeks have just painted their flag on rocks on a low hill and rather badly at that!
Turgutreis Marina is large and has superb facilities that even extend to a leisure club with a swimming pool and tennis courts but one pays for it at the extortionate rate of 42€ a night plus electricity and water at about 3€ each per day. If this were not enough to pay we had to fork out 15€ each for customs and immigration (this has to be paid in currency other than Turkish Lira) and 45€ for our Transit Log. Finally to make us feel absolutely fleeced we had to pay an Agent 75€ for doing the entry formalities for us, the Government having decreed such just two weeks before! So we paid a total of 150€ to enter Turkey, the most we have paid in any Mediterranean country.

The wild, mountainous coastal region of the Carian gets its name from the indigenous people that populated the area before the beginning of the first millennium BC.

The Gokova Korfezi, or Gulf, extends eastward from Bodrum, the northern shore comprising sheer cliffs of up to 1000 metres high and the southern coastline in stark contrast much indented with quiet coves and inlets within mountainous pine forests.
English Harbour in Dergimen Buku, from where the SBS operated during World War II, is one such delightful landlocked creek surrounded by a forest of pine interspersed with deciduous trees which are in the main Fragrant Amber. We anchored and took a long line ashore, only the third time we have performed this manoeuvre which involves dropping and setting the anchor with sufficient scope and Miggy rowing a long line to the shore which she ties to a chain she clips around a tree, rock or bollard. We will have to do it frequently in the future as most of the Turkish coast is steep to and swinging to anchor in such deep water just isn’t feasible.

After just over an hour from leaving Degirmen Buku we were in the anchorage at Castle Island in the Sehir Adalari. This island, measuring just 700 metres long by 300 metres at its widest point, was the site of the ancient town of kedrai, or Cedar, as, at that time, it was covered in cedar trees. Shipbuilding no doubt put an end to the cedar forest which has now been replaced with olive groves. This is the only place within the pine forests of the Gokova Korfezi that we have seen olives but that is not surprising bearing in mind that the Romans were here during the second and first centuries BC. It is said that Cleopatra regularly holidayed here with Anthony and that she had sand imported from North Africa to make a beach on which the two of them could frolic! Someone has proved that the sand is not of this region but resembles that found in Crete but, of course, it is extremely doubtful that the lady ever set foot on the island! The anchorage is idyllic with clear turquoise water but the day trippers who apparently make this place unbearable in the summer were starting to make their presence felt.
Miggy caught a Dorade (Dolphin Fish) about half a metre long but it got away just as we were landing it onto the bathing platform having tipped a little Gin into its gullet to kill it. The spring clip holding to lure onto the line came unclipped. It was a beautifully rainbow coloured fish that would have made extremely good eating but it was not to be!

Another of the superb anchorages to be found along this coast is East Creek in the Yedi Adalari, or Seven Islands. The water had suddenly reached about 25°C and Miggy was swimming a lot and relishing it in the crystal clear water of our totally sheltered and solitary cove. The air temperature is hotting up to about 30°C in the shade at midday but it was alright as an enterprising chappy with his son made the rounds of the anchorage in their ciaique selling Walls ice cream!

We made the trip from our anchorage in the Yedi Adalari to Kormen further west down the coast and wish we had not. The wind, which rose to force 6, was on the nose and the sea created by it was short and steep boat stopping stuff. It took five and three-quarter hours to make twenty three miles.

Kormen is a strange harbour that hosts the ferry terminal from Datcha to Bodrum. It is out on a limb but has a restaurant at the seaward end of the quay. The harbourmaster was very welcoming and charged us 10TL for a night inclusive of water and electricity.

In rigging the long boarding ladder from the stern of Bella to the dock I managed to break one of the wind generator blades. We took the hub off the wind generator with some difficulty. In fact we had to resort to the ‘puller’. Undoing the bolts in the hub holding the blades was equally difficult due to salt encrustation but we made it in the end due to Miggy’s endurance. Why don’t people smear a little grease over things before they put them together! We managed to stick the blade back with epoxy adhesive and to grease everything before we reassembled the hub and rotor.

While waiting in Kormen for the strong winds to blow through we took the one and a half hour trip to Bodrum on the ferry. We had previously shunned the town as being too large and full of tourists but in fact it is quite a delightful place despite being the first town in Turkey to develop a tourist industry. The castle of the Knights of St John, the Crusaders, is very well presented despite having been virtually totally rebuilt after the French bombed it to ruins in 1916 for some reason. The five towers housed the ‘Inns’ of the nationalities that were represented here, the English, French, German, Spanish and Italian. The interior of the English tower was quite atmospheric. Fine colourful gardens and shady courtyards embellish the interior of the Castle.
We had an excellent ‘Doner’ lunch, the lamb Doner roll having been made by the German restaurateur and marinated overnight in oil and spices. During the afternoon we spent an hour sweating and relaxing in the Hammam. After donning the ‘pestamel’, a colourful checked cloth wrapped around the waist, and laying for twenty minutes or so on the heated marble slab one is rubbed down with a course hand pad. It is incredible to see how much dead skin and dirt roll off the body. A shower is followed by a massage in soapsuds and another shower. Then one can relax on the slab for as long as one wishes before taking a final shower and drying off.

We motored from Kormen along the north side of the Datcha peninsular as far as Knidos were we were able to bear away and sail eastwards along the south of the peninsular albeit in 23knots of wind on occasions. Bella was tramping along at 7 to 8 knots on a beam reach quite happily with one reef and a roll in the genoa. Our destination, Palamut, is a sleepy place with a few restaurants, a couple of shops, houses and holiday homes tucked in amongst the trees. We would have liked to have stayed for a day in this sheltered harbour but the young disrespectful ‘harbourmaster’ and the prices put us off. We paid 30TL for the berth and, if we wanted it, a further 10TL for water and electricity. Although in pound sterling terms this does not appear expensive at £12 a night and £4 a night for water and electricity, in comparison with Kormen at £4 a night inclusive, it is exorbitant.

The Greek island of Symi is very close to the Turkish coast. One should check out of Turkey and into Greece at recognised ports of entry but, illegally we regret, we didn’t. Doing so would mean the inconvenience of the formalities and perhaps the cost of re-entry. We just change the courtesy flags halfway between countries as does everybody else!

We anchored in the landlocked Panormitis bay surrounded by barren rocky hills studded with maquis and the occasional pine tree and olive grove. It is strange that anyone settled on Simi as it has no source of fresh water. This is the home of the Moni Taxiarchi Michail Panormiti, a monastery famous for its icon of Archangel Michael, the island’s patron saint and the guardian of seafarers and a place of pilgrimage for Greek sailors from worldwide. Like most icons with alleged miraculous powers it attracts enormous wealth in the form of gifts from those wishing favours or protection. Good business if you can get it! It is good to know however that some of this wealth is used to help poor families by way of financial support and work as well as providing scholarships to poorer students.
The monastery buildings are plain but classical 18th to 20th century. The central cloister has a choklakia courtyard of zigzag pebble mosaics and an arcaded balcony off which are the monk’s cells. It seems doubtful that many monks s reside here now; we have certainly seen none around. It may be that they live in more modest surroundings further up the hill. In the main now the cells accommodate a home for the elderly that offers shelter for those in need and holiday rooms. The monastery is dominated by an elaborate bell tower built in 1905 as a copy of the famous Agia Foteini in Izmir. From afar it appears to be a beautiful stone structure with contrasting brick arches and infill panels. In fact, close up, it is a rendered structure painted somewhat gaudily and imperfectly in blue and ochre.
We relaxed at anchor for a few days and at times were entertained by the anchoring antics of new arrivals particularly a Frenchman who dragged every time he laid the anchor. We had 45 knot squalls one evening and this Frenchman’s yacht dragged its anchor to fall down on us astride our chain and against our bow. He had no idea what to do to get out of the situation and we managed to hold his boat off Bella and tell him to raise his anchor and not motor. Needless to say he did both and was lucky not to lose his prop on our chain. Surprisingly we did not drag after this episode thanks to our Delta anchor. This idiot then came back for more but with the combination of our 5 million candlepower searchlight and vocal discouragement from all boats in the vicinity he finally went away to play somewhere else. We got to bed at about midnight like most others in the anchorage and soon after the wind eased.

The short sail to Gialos, the capital port of Symi involved transiting the narrow Steno Nimou passage that has a depth of only 4.5 metres in the fairway. That is of course no problem for us with a draft of around 2 metres but the bottom is sand and rock and the water is so clear that the seabed appears to be just below the surface. Keep looking ahead and not down advises the Pilot Book!
Berthed in Gialos at a fee of 5€ for an indefinite stay the picture postcard Venetian village of Chorio rises in a steep amphitheatre above the harbour. The two and three storey brightly painted mansions, once the homes of merchants and captains reflect Symi’s prosperity under the rule of the Knights of St John in the 14th century when shipping and commerce, sponge fishing, boat building and other crafts flourished. The islands population grew to 30,000 only to be reduced to 3,000 by mass emigration during the harsh Italian occupation in the early 20th century. The island now thrives again on the back of tourism. In the cool of the morning we walked up the five hundred steps of the Kali Strata lined with the former mansions of the merchants and captains to the village of Chorio. The village has an identity entirely separate from the Gialos harbour settlement with its own community, shops, Tavernas and church. From Chorio we had magnificent views over the harbour and over Pedhi Bay on the southern side of the headland on which there are twelve somewhat dilapidated windmills. One has a new life as a restaurant however and no doubt others will be restored for similar uses as time goes on.
Another courtesy flag change and we were back in Turkey and had a very pleasant downwind sail, yes we sailed all the way, to Semiliye in the Hisaronu Korfezi. We sailed through the narrow passages between the mainland and the off lying islands from Dirsek northward which made for some spectacular scenery, the mainland being mountainous and the islands 100 to 200m high. There is an appreciable amount more vegetation on the hillsides than there is in Symi.
We berthed stern to with a laid line to the town pontoon where we were met by the mooring man, Roguish Osman, ‘008 the man with the golden teeth’ who has a permanent broad smile to show off his fine mouthful.
Outside us on the pontoon was a British registered motor yacht called ‘Shangri La’ which was apparently built for Robert Mitchum. We had a merry wine slurping evening on board in the company of her owner, Alan, and his hostess Jo.
The little village is very pretty being set in fruit orchard and olive groves with the backdrop of maquis clad rugged mountains. The slopes of the mountains at the northern end of Selimiye bay are covered with thick pine woods down to the water’s edge. It is a beautiful spot.
To Miggy’s delight the weekly open air clothes, household goods and fruit and vegetable market was open. We bought some peppers, nuts of various types and a thin, cool cotton long dress which looks really good on her.

We enjoyed the sail from Selimiye to Ohaniye on a run in light airs averaging just 2 knots with headsail alone. One has no worries of an accidental gybe of the mainsail!
The deep bay of Keci Buku, or Ohaniye, carves its way into the pine forested mountains quite magnificently. We anchored in 7 metres of water in sticky mud which gives excellent holding. It is not crowded here and so is very relaxing.
It is however a little more commercialised than Selimiye mainly because of a ‘sand’ spit that extends 300 metres or so from the beach that is only calf deep. It appears as if people standing on the spit are walking on water. The spit is formed by residue from the river that enters the bay here so they say. Miggy doesn’t agree and thinks it is the remains of an ancient sea wall protecting a large harbour. Her premise is that the spit is in the wrong place relative to the river mouth , the ‘sand’ is not sand at all but broken red rock the likes of which is not evident at all in the river valley and the sides of the spit are steep to. The third and more romantic explanation is the best however and that is that the spit was formed by a girl carrying sand in the hem of her skirt to lay a pathway in the water to her lover who was at sea. She kept walking as the sand ran out and so drowned. Miggy swam out to and walked along the spit. She didn’t run out of sand thank goodness!
We left Ohaniye early to avoid headwinds in the Hisaronu Korfezi and so we did arriving through the shallow Kizil passage, which was not as fearful as the Pilot Book makes out, to anchor between Kizil Adasi and Kiseli Adasi. Whilst it is a delightful anchorage it is not one of clear water over a sandy bottom as stated in the Pilot. In fact the water is quite murky and the bottom is weed and rock with sandy patches. We were surrounded by the ruins of buildings, probably of the Byzantine era, and were fascinated by a pair of eagles nesting on Kiseli Adasi one of which was hovering in thermals above the island looking for prey.
The ‘Meltemi’ is a summer wind that can blow up to gale force for days on end in these parts. Such a wind is forecast so we decided to shelter in Bozburun harbour until the strong winds abated.

The Bozburun of today is very much different from the Bozburun that Miggy remembers from 30 years ago. The village has grown, not to dramatic proportions yet, and the shipbuilding and the smell of wood pervading the air that Miggy so enjoyed all those years ago has all but disappeared. The town still retains its charm however and we shall enjoy our few days here. We were welcomed by friendly and relaxed port authorities, so unlike their somewhat officious Greek counterparts, and we paid for three days stay at 30TL a day inclusive of electricity and potable water.
That evening a 40 metre gullet (traditional wooden Turkish sailing boat many of which ply these waters with up to a dozen passengers) , the captain of which was neither seamanlike nor professional and would be hard put to obtain a licence to drive a rowing boat in Northern Europe, forced himself into an impossible berth next to us. To add insult to injury the passengers insisted on talking loudly on deck directly adjacent to our sleeping quarters until 0200 despite my having politely asked them to be quiet at 0000. They then summoned the police after Neal had made bitter complaint to them which, after intense provocation, included questioning the legitimacy of their birth. Neal thought he should have been the one to call the police but he guesses inconsideration is not an offence; neither is probing their parentage we believe. It transpired that this was a group of doctors one of whom told me he was drunk; we were under the impression that taking alcohol was an Islamic sin! If this is the inconsiderate and deceitful manner in which the professional class of Turkey behave then God help the remainder of Turkish society. To be fair however every other Turkish person we have met has been warm, friendly and charitable and so we surmise that the doctors were suffering from holidayitis and alcohol.
We are back amongst large yachts having felt that Bella was holding her own against the smaller yachts encountered in the Cyclades islands. It seems that it is the charter yachts and those owned by foreign nationals keeping them in marinas close to airports that are the large ones. Although there are of course exceptions it seems to be the cruising folk like us that tend to go for the smaller models.

Marmaris, our resting place for our summer break back in the UK is a couple of day’s sails around the headland west of Bozburun. After lolling around in a couple of anchorages on the way, we plan to be there on the 12th July ready for our flight home on the 15th July. We look forward with great excitement to seeing family and friends during our stay.

Around the Cyclades

Leaving the Corinth Canal gave us the feeling of sailing into a different world. Why we have no idea as the Saronic Gulf was much the same as the Corinth Gulf in that the sea was alike, the mountains were similar and the vegetation unchanged but transiting that narrow isthmus had delivered us into the Aegean Sea and less than two hundred miles from the Orient.

Those tiny seedless grapes that we call currants are grown in Corinth and the word currant derives from the French name for the city.

We spent little time in the Saronic Gulf with just a night in the peaceful anchorage of Korfos, where we were delighted to meet Debbie and Jez who were delivering their new yacht back to their base in Lefkas marina, and a day or two in Poros, a charming town of typically colourful Greek character behind the waterfront facade of tourist restaurants and tat shops.

With just four or five weeks to spend in the Cyclades before the onset of the Meltemi, a strong summer wind, we had to be selective in selecting our route through the twenty five or so main Islands. This group of Islands that derive their name from kyklos, meaning circle, because they surround the sacred island of Delos, are the Greek Islands of everyone’s perception with their villages of white cubic flat roofed houses and twisting cobbled streets clinging to hillsides, windmills and blue domed churches.

It is difficult to reason why Ancient Delos, the political and religious centre of the world around the tenth to eighth centuries BC and a city of some 30,000 people was situated on a rocky barren island measuring just 1.5 km long by 1300m wide. It is in the realms of mythology that one must look for the reason. Every land had refused sanctuary to Leto, who was with child By Zeus, on account of their anticipation of the wrath of Hera, Zeus’s legitimate spouse. Leto found refuge a floating island which Poseidon, taking pity on her, anchored to the seabed. Here on Delos Leto bore Apollo and Artemis. The Apollo cult grew rapidly and people from all over the world descended on Delos to consult the Oracle. The Island grew to become a major port and trading post.

Although the former glory of the temples, stoas (markets), houses and monuments has been eroded by time and pilfering, many are substantially preserved: the five lions guarding the sacred lake, the temple of Apollo, the sanctuary of Dionysos with its huge phallic statues, the theatre, the houses of Masks, Dionysos and Cleopatra named after their impressive mosaics and their ornate statues. It was a real pleasure and privilege to spend time lost in this ancient world particularly without the summer crowds and with the monuments standing in a carpet of multicoloured spring flowers. The wholeness of the site gives a comprehensive picture of how the Ancients lived their lives.

One is no longer permitted to anchor off Delos and so it is to Mykonos marina one has to go and thence by caique the few miles across the water to the ancient city. Nothing could be further from the history and peace of Delos than the frighteningly dire holiday venue of Mykonos. It is an archetypal Greek island town; the one you see on all the postcards and advertisements, complete with windmills and Petros the Pelican, only to be spoiled only by the plethora of souvenir shops, jewellers and so called fashion outlets that line its quaint alleys and the masses of the human race that holiday on this sexually permissive and degenerate island. What the locals make of it heavens knows!

Naxos Island, the largest of the Cyclades is mountainous with Mount Zas at 1004 metres, the highest in the Cyclades, dominating the landscape. Its internal valleys are rich with olive groves and vines and its white villages with their Venetian fortified tower houses clinging to the rocky slopes. We visited a number of these villages including the highest in the Island, Komiaki, the former home of emery miners and now famous for its local liqueur, Kitro, and the atmospheric Aperathos with its fine marble paved streets, once the home of Cretans fleeing from Turkish oppression.

Still the wild spring flowers abound and yellow broom is vibrant on the hillsides.
The Island is most renowned for its fine quality marble that has been used locally and shipped worldwide for over 3000 years. We saw impressive new quarries where the pure white marble face carved into the mountainside glittered like diamond and we visited ancient quarries at Apollon and Flerie where 6th and 7th century BC Kouros or massive statues lay partially sculptured ready to be slid down the rock face on sledges, carted the 11 kilometres to the port by donkey and cart there to be shipped to temples or grand villas in Delos, Delphi, Olympia and further afield where they would have been sculptured to their final exquisite form.

The Kouros at Apollon is 10.5 m long and weighs 30 tonnes and is thought to portray Dionysos and that at Flerie of an unknown man is 8 m long.
Also at Flerie are fresh water springs that were tapped in the 7th century BC to supply fresh water to the Chora (main town) 11 km away in surprisingly sophisticated jointed clay pipes laid underground.

Theseus abandoned Ariadne, who helped him slay the Minotaur and penetrate the labyrinth, in Naxos on his way from Crete to Athens. However she fell in love with Dionysos, the god of the vine, and they lived happily ever after. This doesn’t do anything for the state of the marina which, although secure and run as well by Kostas as he is allowed by his superiors in Athens, is fast deteriorating into uselessness.

The Portara gateway on the isle of Palatia dominating the entrance to Naxos harbour was built in 522BC as the entrance to the uncompleted temple of Apollo.
The old town on a hill above the harbour is delightful and divides distinctly into the Venetian Kastro, once home to the Catholic nobility and the medieval Bourg where the Naxians lived.
The stone flagged twisted alleyways of the Bourg market area are fascinating and picturesque with dense red bougainvillea vivid against the white buildings.

The main gate to the Kastro and the inner walls protecting nineteen palazzi bearing the coats of arms of the noblemen who lived here from AD1207 are all that remain of the Venetian stronghold. Remains of these noble Venetian families are buried beneath marble slabs in the Catholic Cathedral. Many of the present day Naxians are descended from these families and one of them, the Duke of Barozzi, hosted an evening of Naxian folk music and dancing in his family’s palazzo. It was a remarkable evening during which we were entertained by lute, violin, Tzabouna, a Naxian bagpipe made from a complete sheepskin, Toubaki, a sheepskin drum and four wonderful local dancers. All this washed down with copious quantities of local wine and raki, if one is inclined that way!

During the later Turkish occupation the town was famous for its schools and its most famous pupil was the novelist Nikos Kazantzakis, author of Zorba the Greek.

The two harbours that we visited on Siros Island, the capital of the Cyclades, could not have been more different. Ermoupolis, an elegant town named after Hermes the god of commerce, is a wealthy town once the major trading port of Greece. The streets are marble paved and the buildings on the waterfront are classic French architecture. The town is built like an amphitheatre around the large harbour with the twin peaks with the Catholic Cathedral of Ano Syros on one and Greek Orthodox Vrontado Cathedral on the other towering over all. Catholicism was introduced to the town by French colonists in the middle ages.

Bella suffered minor damage on the quay at Ermoupolis due to the massive wash created by the fast ferries driven by testosterone rather than seamen, docking nearby. She suffered no damage however as we rode out gale force winds in the calm and shelter of Finikas harbour on the western coast of the island

The Island of Amorgos is renowned for its rocky mountainous landscape and its Byzantine Moni (Monastery) Panagias Chozoviotissas; a massive and spectacular buttressed white building built into and clinging from the rock face of a 180m high cliff. The only thing between the Monastery and the heavens was the eyrie of eagles and their young.
There are only two monks resident nowadays a far cry from the many that must have inhabited the place when it was constructed in 1088. We guess that they must have died off one by one on the exhaustingly long and steep climb up to the front door. We made it with streaming brow and panting breath but were soothed once inside the hallowed confines with water a small glass of plum brandy. Perhaps the brandy was the death of them! The tiny chapel houses the icon of the Virgin Mary by dint of which, it is said, many miracles have happened. One occurred on the day that we visited by way of us living to tell the tale!

Paros Island is extremely fertile with fields of hay already harvested in May and abundant vines and vegetable crops in the valleys and on the coastal plains surrounding the central mountain range. The Island is famous for its fine quality marble some of which was used to build Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb.

It was on Paros Island that we spent time in one of two idyllic anchorages that we discovered that of Ay Iaonnou. We gasped at the beauty of the place. Great marble and limestone rocks carved by the winds of time formed a natural amphitheatre around secluded beaches and translucent azure water in which we plunged our anchor into the sandy seabed. We were one of only three yachts moored in the bay and the tranquillity was broken only by the sight of a couple, he with his swimming costume on and she with her knickers in place, making love on the beach. Such is young lust!

The other perfect anchorage was the virtually landlocked bay of Fikiadha on Kithnos Island. The sunset over the strip of beach separating us from the bay to the west and the open sea beyond was splendid and the freshly cooked Bonito that Miggy had caught, gutted and filleted on passage that day was excellent.

Miggy later on in the trip caught a four kilo Tuna but having gaffed it and poured a little Gin into its gullet to put it to rest quickly it escaped the gaff with its last flap!

We have had some good sailing in the Cyclades with fresh and, on some occasions strong, favourable winds. We have had to seek shelter three times to escape very strong or gale force winds. Those following in our wake will be pleased to know that all harbours and town quays visited were free with the exception of Naxos Marina where Kostas, who referred to Miggy as ‘Captain of the dock, was so embarrassed at the state of the place that he left it to us to give an amount we thought fit. Water has cost us from nothing to 1 cent a litre and electricity no more than 3€ a day.

Our final port of call before Kos and then Turkey was a beautiful landlocked bay on the south coast of Levitha, a small island that is either the most easterly of the Cyclades the most westerly of the Dodecanese depending upon which source one reads. We have heard that four interrelated families live on the Island and that every so often a son will marry a girl from off the Island to bring fresh blood into the family. It’s just like managing the extensive herd of goats on the Island whose bleats and bells have given us much pleasure in this tranquil place.

Engineering Marvels 800BC to AD2004

It was on our ‘crystal’ wedding anniversary that we sailed from Vathi in Ithaca to Patras to start our passage through the Gulfs of Patraikos and Korinthiakos, the narrow seaway between the Peloponnese and the Greek mainland, to the Corinth Canal. On the way we would see the longest suspension bridge in the world built in 2004, ancient Greek Delphi, the 19th century Kalavryta rack and pinion railway and finally the Corinth Canal.

Patras itself is a relatively modern concrete town with little to interest us although the Marina at 30 euros a night, electricity and water included, and over five kilos of laundry washed and dried for only 10 euros, is convenient to start the passage east. We also had an excellent and good value anniversary meal in town at an authentic Greek restaurant.

Less than five miles after leaving Patras we sailed into the Korinthiakos Gulf and passed with awe under the enormous but nonetheless beautiful Rion Bridge, the longest cable stayed bridge in the world at 2,252 metres and a maximum air clearance of 45 metres. The wind funnels through this narrow strait with high mountain ranges either side to give quite exciting sailing all the way to the tiny island of Trizonia some twenty miles to the east.

Trizonia is a gem and despite the sunken or abandoned boats that litter the quayside, the harbour is sheltered and has a bizarre charm. Nobody bothered us for mooring fees and the water is free. The village on the waterfront with its relatively large church is quaint although it has four open Tavernas; more than were open in Kefalonia and Ithaca together! The only and wonderfully fresh crusty loaf of bread at the tiny supermarket had what we thought to be an Easter cross moulded into the top. We were delighted with this find but had our wrists slapped by the assistant who told us it was the holy bread for communion today, the Orthodox Good Friday. Greek Easter is the foremost religious event of the year and an important holiday. We watched the midnight candlelit procession from the church into the main square from a Taverna in the square over a beer after which fireworks were set off; not what we are used to at Cowes or the Olympic Games but perfect for this place and this occasion.

The most wonderful walk around the island, measuring no more than one and a half miles by three-quarters of a mile revealed an enormous variety of beautiful wild flowers including two species of wild orchid. Views to the nearby Peloponnese over the white capped waves of deep cerulean water roughened by the strong westerly wind matched the snow capped peaks of the mountains stunningly set against the bluest of blue skies.

Onward to the east the narrow inlet on which the town Galaxidi stands is spectacular with a waterfront lined with classic Italianate buildings and set against the backdrop of the 2500 metre snow capped Mount Parnassus.

The small town with its narrow cobbled streets is normally a tranquil place but that tranquillity is interrupted at times by Athenians for whom Galaxidi is a mere two hour drive away. Easter is one such occasion but they left late in the day to give this town back its serenity. For those following in our wake the Port Police are reluctant to collect berthing fees, none knows how much should be charged for electricity so we were asked to donate what we felt appropriate and the water is 5 euros a day, potable but virtually undrinkable.

It was from Galaxidi that we caught the early morning bus to visit Delphi.

Legend has it that Zeus dispatched two eagles from opposite ends of the universe and declared the site on land below their crossing point in the sky the centre of the world and named that place Delphi. Located spectacularly on a series of terraces on a precipitous slope in the foothills of Mount Parnassus and flanked by the sheer faces of high rock slopes, the Phaidiadres, Delphi was renowned from the 8th century BC as the home of Apollo. People came from all over the ancient world to consult the oracle, a priestess who mouthed the advice of the god Apollo, albeit often ambiguous. The sanctuary continued in the same vein until the arrival of the Romans in 191 BC and the oracle was abolished in AD 393 with the rise of Christianity in the Byzantine Empire. Spoilsports!

The massive Temple of Apollo and its alter for ritual slaughter are the centrepiece of the sanctuary and stands in the middle of the site surrounded by temples devoted to other gods, treasuries, stoas (markets), meeting halls and council chambers. The main street, the ‘sacred way’, leads to Apollo’s temple and onward to the 5000 seat theatre which, although grand, in no way rivals the theatre at Epidaurus! An exhausting steep climb onward up the hillside is the Stadium where the Pythian Games were held. These, after the Olympic Games, were the most important sporting event in Greece and served, as did the Olympics, to bring together the otherwise divided rival city states. Delphi in its magnificent setting does have the atmosphere of long gone days of an ancient civilisation. We are so glad to have visited the place in the cool of the spring and early in the day and we can only imagine the how insufferable it would be with hoards of tourist in the heat of midsummer.

To find a berth in Corinth Yacht Harbour amongst the many local craft is a problem but berthing is free as is good drinking water.

We rose to an early alarm to catch the train from Corinth towards Diakofto where the 22 kilometre Kalavryta to Diakofto rack and pinion railway starts. It was built between 1889 and 1896 by an Italian company to bring ore down to the sea from the mountains. The engine relies on a third rack and pinion rail for six miles where grades can be up to I in 7. It is a magnificent feat of engineering, the track weaving through tunnels, over bridges with a gushing river below and hanging precariously on the steep sides, some of which overhang the track, of the Vouraikos Gorge. It was an impressive journey and one that will form a lasting memory.

Only a mile away from Corinth Yacht Harbour lay the entrance to the Corinth Canal. We, together with ‘Jasmone’ with Peter and Ruth aboard were two of four yachts astern of a coaster going through the six kilometre long canal. With the help of a 1 knot current the transit time was just half an hour. Formalities were easily completed at the eastern end, Isthmia, but they hurt at 130 euros!

The Canal construction was started by the French and completed by the Greeks in 1893 although Emperor Nero dug the first trench back in Roman times in an endeavour to avoid having to drag ships across the isthmus on a paved road as had been the custom for time immemorial. The dimensions of the canal at 24 metres wide by 7 metres deep limit its use to small ships and yachts. It is underused therefore with modern container ships, bulk carriers and cruise ships having to go south about the Peloponnese. The weekly closure on Tuesdays to carry out repairs to the crumbling limestone sides seems not to be effectual and one wonders how long the canal will be cost effective to run despite its high charges.
The passage through the canal gazing ever upward at the 79 metre maximum high limestone walls is impressive although the occasion was less momentous than we had envisaged beforehand. In fact it was more imposing to look downward from the road bridge, as we had during our whistle-stop tour of Greece, than to peer upward from the boat.

The Patraikos and Korinthiakos Kolpos behind us we now find ourselves in the Saronikos Kolpos about which and much more later.

Odysseus’s Homeland

You can tell just how crazy yachties become when they have been tied up in port for too long when they engage in Miggy’s idea of paper boat racing. Two classes competed, kids under twelve and big kids and a healthy number of competitors with a gallimaufry of boats raced them from pontoon to pontoon. It was a glorious free for all on the water with no protests or claims for redress allowed. Miggy’s boat won along with shouts of ‘fix’ but she got a fine returnable trophy, a nice bottle of wine and a voucher for €50 which she had no trouble spending in Paleros’s, the sponsors, chandlery. We hope we have made our mark, bizarre as it may be, as the resident marina bertholders and the sponsors hope to make this race an annual event to involve not just the marina but local businesses and organisations and in particular the kids.

After the racing Miggy had organised a self catering ‘Fitting Out Party’. It was very well attended and the variety, amount and quality of the food were excellent. The Party was a fitting occasion to say our farewells to those with whom we had spent an extremely pleasant, if not wet, winter in Lefkas.

For those who follow in our wake our advice is to winter at Lefkas marina rather than Gouvia marina in Corfu. The former is well managed and within a short walk of the delightful small town whereas the latter does not possess either attribute!

Beware, however, of using Joe Charlton, Contract Yacht Services Ltd (CYS), for work on your yacht as he and his employees overstate the hours worked. We were on the boat all the time his chaps were working so we knew precisely how many hours should have been billed. We settled his labour bill for 40% of the amount he wanted.

Corfu is the most northern of the Heptanesoi, the seven Islands of the Ionian. Paxos, Andipaxos, Lefkas, Ithaca, Kefalonia and Zakinthos lie to the south. We wrote about Corfu, Paxos and Andipaxos in a previous blog (October 2008 – Montenegro to Lefkas).

It was time for Neal to reminisce and to introduce Miggy to those parts of the Ionian he had sailed on flotilla some thirty years ago, namely, the south of Lefkas, Ithaca, Kefalonia and Meganisi.

Our first landfall was Vathi on Meganisi just twelve miles south of Lefkas town. This dusty sleepy little place was even more asleep than ever and we were the only yacht anchored there. Those who intend to visit this place later this year will be pleased to learn that the town quay was being dredged whilst we were there.

Spartakhori on Meganisi is an enchanting village of whitewashed houses and narrow streets high on a hill overlooking the harbour. It is well worth the steep climb up steps through the shelter of pine trees to the village if only to view the glorious panorama of the harbour and the Ionian Sea and Islands, the closest of which is Onassis’ private island of Scorpios. It is reputed that all those years ago during a rather Retsina fuelled evening at ‘Chicken Bill’s, in Spartakhori playing ‘charades’, Beryl, Neal’s Stepmother, gave an outstanding performance of ‘Blazing Saddles’ by sliding down the narrow cobbled street on her backside!

The seasons here are governed by the coming of the yachties when the charter flights start and so very few if any Tavernas or shops are open before the beginning of May. We can imagine the hell of the packed harbours and the teeming crowds that swarm at the height of the summer and we are thankful for our solitude now in the cool spring surrounded wherever we wander with the vivid colour and scent of lavish wild flowers.

Again for yachties sailing our course in the future water is at a premium and difficult to find and electricity on town quays is nonexistent or turned off until May. There are no berthing charges either and we gather that, even during the high season, the Port Police can be reluctant to collect any fees due. Except in Fiskardo, Cephalonia that is!

Through the spectacular strait between the precipitous slopes of Lefkas and those of the gentler hills of Meganisi, called the Mevagissey Channel by many a Cornishman, we sail to the southern coast of Lefkas and to the lovely yet somewhat soulless bay of Sivota and to Vasiliki nestling at the head of a spectacular bay fringed by high mountains on the three landward sides. Here we met friends from ‘Bobble’ in Lefkas marina, Debbie and Jeremy who have a house high on the hills overlooking the harbour to which they were kind enough to entertain us for supper. They also fulfilled our wish to see the rugged west coast of Lefkas by driving us along its length stopping off at charming towns and stunning white sand beaches.

Kefalonia, the largest of the Ionians, is steep - to and, as it is blessed with less rain than its northern neighbours, rugged and rocky. The valleys running down to the sea are forested with the local fir tree, the Kefalonia Pine, a devil for those who suffer from hay fever! Fiskardo is a picture postcard village with original Venetian houses lining the waterfront. This town was not devastated by the 1953 earthquake along with those previous that affected so much of the Ionian as it is built on clay not like others on rock.

For the sailors, Fiskardo harbour is sheltered and the western quay and western end of the pontoon adjoining have more than three metres depth and water and electricity are provided although not until May. Payment of harbour dues is expected here even in April when we paid 9€ for our one night stay. In fact they charge by the day or part of a day so that one night’s stay equates to two days!

Sami is a large protected harbour and a lively town set within a beautiful backdrop of wooded hills at the southern end of the channel between the island and its neighbour to the east, Ithaca. Water is free at Sami all year round although one has to be inventive with connections if out of season! Parts of the town and adjoining coast were used as settings for the film ‘Captain Corelli’s Violin’. A very kind native of this Island who gave us a lift to an inland Taverna on Neal’s birthday knew the author of the book well and was incensed that the film lived up in no way to the book. Something to do with Hollywood he felt!

Our final destination in the Ionian was Ithaca, the mythical or not so mythical home of Homer’s Odysseus and the site of Arethusa’s spring although last year we were told that this was in Syracuse, Sicily! The village, Vathi that stands at the head of a nearly landlocked bay has all the facilities a yachtsman could wish for. It was almost completely rebuilt after the 1953 earthquake albeit sympathetically. The approach to the bay through the Gulf of Molo can be less inviting, however, where katabatic winds from the 2500 metre Mount Neritos can lay a yacht on her beam ends as Neal found out all those years ago.

So how did the reality live up to the expectation? Well, the villages may have grown; there may be new quays and more tourists and the memory may have been dulled with age but the Ionians are manifestly the same. We enjoyed our time here anyway.

Helios Sleeps

Some may say ‘you are so lucky to spend the winter in the dry and warmth of an idyllic Greek island’. They are right we are lucky but the weather is not as tranquil as one might think. In fact it has been downright cold with night time temperatures occasionally reaching 0°C and it has hardly stopped raining and blowing hard since we returned after our Christmas break in the UK. We are told that this winter’s weather is unusual and the snow capped mountains surrounding us are a constant, albeit very spectacular and beautiful, reminder of this.

Some may ask ‘what do you do all day?’ and ‘don’t you get bored lazing around on ‘Bella’ all day?’ The truth is that one can do as little or as much as one wishes. We choose the latter but go about it in a relaxed manner; there are no deadlines.

So what do we do all day? Apart from attending to the myriad jobs on our planned preventative maintenance list and doing the chores that prevail wherever one is, such as shopping, household chores and the like, we like to get to know the locality of our chosen winter home and to explore the wider country in which we are staying. We told of our journey around mainland Greece in our previous blog but what of Lefkas, our Island home.

Lefkas Island rises to about 1000m centrally and the hillsides are covered with Pine, Cypress and Olive. The landscape is lush and green and no wonder as the January average rainfall is 153mm. December, February and March are not much drier and the rain is proper rain, the stuff that monsoons are made of. The volume on the DVD player has to be turned up full to overcome the deafening noise of its hammering on the deck accompanied, as it invariably is, by ear-splitting thunderclaps. Helios sleeps but how cunning and kind of him or perhaps Zeus himself to arrange for all the rainfall when we don’t want to go sailing and leave July with an average rainfall of zero!

A February day that dawned bright and sunny heralded a sightseeing trip into the hills of Lefkas. As the bus climbed the twisted road out of town the views over the small town, its canal and lagoon set against the snow capped mountains of the mainland were superb. Still ascending through small villages we passed through olive groves where the big black fruit was still being harvested and the hillsides and valleys were alive with pink cherry and white almond blossom. Our destination was Karia a small hillside town with its church and bell tower and plane tree shaded terrace overlooking the valley to the east and the mountains of the mainland. One can imagine the place overwhelmed with tourists eating at the tables of the many Tavernas spread across this terrace but today we were amongst Greeks and we eat what they gave us in the only Taverna open; souvlaki, chips and Greek salad and rough local wine and it was good.

We had a day’s holiday by way of an outing to Vasiliki in the south of the Island also by bus. The journey takes about an hour and the scenery is terrific, firstly driving down the east coast of Lefkas to Nidri and Vlikho and then up across the olive and pine clad hills to the fertile valley that leads to Vasiliki on the coast. The views from on high over Vlikho Bay and Nidri to the north and down into the landlocked harbour of Sivota were stunning.

Vasiliki is a town wrapped around a pretty harbour with many waterfront bars and tavernas. It is not only a port for us yachties but also a holiday resort for windsurfers, dinghy sailors and beach lovers alike. Our visit found the place with the holidaymakers gone and we sat one of only three tables occupied for lunch in the only Taverna open in town. We eat royally with Greek salad; little fishes followed by roast chicken and, unusually, roast potatoes in a curry sauce. All this in the warmth of sunshine and washed down with a passable red wine made for a splendid day out.

We described Lefkas town in a previous blog published on the 6th November 2008. Our opinion of the place has not changed, if anything the more we have discovered about the town the more we appreciate it. The shopping is superb with magnificent butchers, bakers and fruit and vegetable stores and there are six good supermarkets, two Greek, the others being overseas chains.

Carnival lasted for the entire final week of February. The final parade through the packed streets of the town was magnificent with imaginative floats including the Kremlin reconstructed. The following day was ‘clean Monday’ when all remaining food in the larder is consumed and the house is spring cleaned for thereafter until orthodox Easter, which is two weeks later than ours, the Greeks are meant to fast by avoiding meat and dairy products. I wonder!

The marina is secure and well managed and Spiros, the manager, and the girls in the Office, Anna and Lisa, are friendly, helpful and efficient. The price of a berth here for six months is not unreasonable at 1500 euros for our 10.5m yacht.

As far as companionship goes, of the forty or so inhabited non Greek flagged boats in the marina the crews of some twenty form the social nucleus of the liveaboards. That equates to about forty people mostly British with a Belgian, New Zealander, South African, two Swedish and a Dutch couple who regularly gather at social events.

There is a wealth of activity to join in with if desired such as Quiz Nights at ‘Chicken Bills’, whose battered fish and chips are just like the real thing, ten pin bowling and the occasional boat jumble. Miggy attends a ‘stretch and tone’, renamed ‘stretch and groan’ session twice a week after which we often cycle the 8 km around the lagoon which is a haven for birdlife. The cycles that we bought second hand when we arrived here have been so useful for getting into town and further afield and for the exercise they give us. We have even managed to sell them for collection just before we leave.

The ladies have a coffee afternoon once a week to gossip about those who are unfortunate enough not to be there! The gentlemen have a ‘stretch and quench’ session on Monday and Wednesday evenings and get into a lot of trouble for being late aboard for their supper. Every Friday evening is designated liveaboard night in the marina bar when people get together over a drink for a chat and a catch up with what’s going on.

We host an interactive radio net on VHF on one morning of the three broadcasts during the week. The broadcast includes slots for medical or other emergency help needed, the weather, those wanting general help or advice, those wishing to sell give away or swop things and the social calendar. We don’t immerse ourselves wholeheartedly in the liveaboard activities but we do join in when it suits us and we have made a number of good friends with whom we would like to keep in touch.

A friend on a neighbouring yacht has been teaching Miggy some Greek. She can decipher the strange alphabet, which is useful as far as road signs are concerned, can understand a little and has a few words and phrases to greet and thank those that we meet. Neal has mastered four words.

On the way back to the UK for the Christmas break and the joy of seeing family and friends we stopped off in Athens, a six hour coach journey from Lefkas along the Gulfs of Patras and Corinth, to see the sights. People either love or hate Athens and I regret to say we are of the latter category. Our opinion was influenced by the riots that were in progress there fired by the youth unemployment in Greece. The streets were swarming with police and there was extensive damage to property, banks were boarded up and cash machines wrecked in Syntagma Square, the location of the Parliament building. At supper we met Oleg, the chief photographer for ‘Reuters (Balkans), who felt as uneasy, if not more so, amongst the rioters than he had in all the conflicts and riots he had covered for the past twenty years. He said that there was real anger and hatred in the faces of the young men involved.

Our long walk from our hotel to the gates of the Acropolis was to no avail as the staff was on strike and barred our access, despite remonstration from us both, thereby denying us our one opportunity to see one of the foremost archaeological remains in the world.

Of the remainder of Athens we were not impressed except for the cramped hillside streets of Athens’ oldest districts of Plaka and Anafiotika nestling beneath the Acropolis, the remarkably intact 440BC temple, Hephaisteion and the reconstructed Stoa of Attalos in the Ancient Agora.

The 2nd century BC ‘Tower of the Winds’ within the ruins of the Roman Agora complex built as a combined weather vane and water clock was fascinating. External friezes on each of the eight facades, which face the cardinal points, portray the eight winds characteristics and the conditions which may prevail as a personality. The gentle westerly wind on the west facing facade is represented by Zephyros, a semi-naked youth scattering flowers whereas Boreas on the north facing facade blows the cold north wind through a large conch shell. In the middle ages the Tower was thought to be the school or prison of Socrates and the Whirling Dervishes used the Tower as a monastery in the mid 18th century.

On a completely different subject the ITrip, a device for playing our IPod wirelessly through an FM radio that we bought in the UK failed after two hours use. Having emailed the manufacturer in the US we were astounded but highly amused to receive the following reply:
‘’Generally we handle returns for our international customers a little differently than for our domestic customers. We assure you that this is our preferred method for handling your return as it will help save you money (shipping costs) and the hassle of having to send the product back to us. It also has the added benefit of helping us to ensure that your unit is truly non-functional. First, destroy your defective product. Yes, really destroy it. A hammer works well for destroying most products however feel free to use whatever tool you are most comfortable with. This can be a great opportunity for you to express yourself creatively and take out some frustrations at the same time. Second, document the destruction. We recommend taking a digital picture of the destroyed unit while it is lying on a printed copy of this email so that the RMA number and other information are visible. Third, send us the pictures. Just reply to this email and attach the digital pictures of the destroyed product on the printed email along with any other pictures that we might enjoy, such as you holding the destroyed product or the town where you live. Of course including the extra pictures is optional but free to include them if you want to’’.
The new ITrip arrived in the post here at Lefkas marina a week later!

We have had ‘Bella’ lifted out of the water for her annual bottom scrub and paint and to make her topsides sparkle for the coming season the start of which, weather permitting, is only a matter of three weeks away. We hope to spend a couple of weeks visiting the other Ionian Island then navigate the Corinth Canal and sail through the Aegean Cyclades Island to arrive on the Turkish coast by mid June. After spending the latter part of July and August in the UK we will make our way slowly south east along the Turkish coast to our 2009/2010 winter base of Finike.

Miggy mentioned to me yesterday evening that at this time last year the swallows were arriving from South Africa. At that very moment a swallow hove into sight and then another and another until flocks of them played around us. They went to their nests under the eaves to await their mates chattering excitedly as if recounting the adventures of their long flight. Perhaps Helios is arising from his slumbers and heralds the onset of spring.

Around Greece in 7 Days - The Peloponnese

Having crossed the Corinth Canal we entered the Peloponnese, a remarkable part of Greece with a history of over 5000 years and a profusion of ancient and medieval sites and monuments. The landscape is dominated by forested mountains and the economy relies on rural produce such as the olive, the vine, citrus fruits and honey.
The first Olympic Games originated in the region and it is where the modern Greek revolution began and ended with an independent Greek state.

We had fine views over the Saronic Gulf during our drive down the eastern coast of the Peloponnese on our way to Nea Epidaurus. There is little cultivation in the coastal strip just Aleppo pines and maquis interspersed with olive groves. The harbour at Nea Epidaurus is one in which we may stay next year. Our room with its balcony in the Hotel Marilena overlooked the sea and the islands to the northeast. The accommodation was inexpensive and comfortable and we eat supper of homemade burgers and chips at the adjoining Taverna Ta Kymata on the beach.

In the cool of the morning and with few other tourists through the sweet fragrance of pines on a hillside below Mount Arahneo emerged the magnificent 3rd century theatre of Epidaurus, the most celebrated and complete ancient theatre in Greece. It is a miracle of architecture built with limestone with the semi circular auditorium 114 metres across at the front arranged around a circular stage. The 55 tiers of seating (the top 21 being a Roman addition) are divided into blocks by 36 staircases. The near perfect acoustics are such that a whisper from the stage can be heard by the person in the 14,000 audience most remote from the stage. Miggy was here over 25 years ago and actually helped make the scenery for and watched ancient Greek drama here. The theatre is a place that will remain vivid in our memories for a long time.

The road from Epidaurus toward Nafplio passes through vineyards and age old olive groves with the mountains looming hazily in the distance. Nafplio with the huge Venetian fortresses of Palamidi and Akronafplia, the island fortress of Bourtzi, its marble pavements, neoclassical buildings and wooden balconies with cascading bougainvillaea is the most elegant town in Greece. After enduring many sieges during the struggle between the Venetians and the Turks and occupation by both, the town was the first capital of liberated Greece from 1829 to 1834. The first Greek parliament (Vouli) was held in the Vouleftiko mosque!

The site of Mycenae was inhabited as far back as the 3rd millennium BC although the remains today reflect early citadel architecture of the Mycenaean or late bronze age from 1700 to 1100BC. Only the ruling class inhabited the hilltop palace, the townspeople living outside the walls. The city was abandoned in 1200BC after disruption and a devastating fire. Much of the complex is remarkably intact considering how long ago it was abandoned and the Mycenaeans buildings were clearly technologically advanced with stone walls in the lower storey and timber framing in as many as two storeys above. The defensive ‘Cyclopean’ walls enclosing the town are constructed with enormous boulders and measure up to 14 metres thick. How these early peoples transported stones of this size and weight from the quarry to this site let alone how they hoisted them in to place in the walls is a feat of unimaginable proportions that has been attributed with some justification to the mythical Cyclops.

The 13th century carved ‘Lion gate’, the main monumental entrance is exquisite for its age. Mycenaean rulers were entombed, along with weapons and enough food and drink to last the journey to the underworld, in grave circles and later in ‘Tholos’ (‘beehive’) tombs examples of which can be seen within and nearby the walled town.

Mycenae was the most powerful city state in Greece until 1100BC and its destruction by fire. The House of Atreus who ruled here had an interesting if not macabre history: King Atreus slaughtered his Brother Thyestes’s children and fed them to him, for which outrage the gods laid a curse on Atreus and his descendants. Thyestes surviving daughter, Pelopia, bore her own father a son, Aigisthos murdered Atreus and restored Thyestes to the throne of Mycenae but Atreus also had an heir, Agamemnon, who seized power. Agamemnon raised a fleet to punish the Trojan Paris who had stolen his brother’s wife, Helen (of Troy fame). He sacrificed his daughter to obtain a favourable wind. When he returned he was murdered by his wife, Klytemnestra, and her lover, - none other than Aigistros. The murderous pair was then disposed of by Agamemnon’s children, Orestes and Elektra. And we think we have family feuds!

Githio, an unremarkable seaside resort looking tired at the end of the season, was once the naval base for Sparta. Linked to the seafront by a causeway lies the islet of Marathonisi, thought to be Homer’s Kranai Island where Paris of Troy and Helen spent their first night together. Githio is also the western gateway to the ‘Mani’, an extraordinary if not unique region on and around the middle peninsular at the south of the Peloponnese. The barren, rocky ‘Inner Mani’ occupies the peninsular itself whilst the more fertile and quite beautiful ‘Outer Mani’ lies to the north. Both are dominated by the dramatic 2400 metre limestone summits of the Taygetus Mountain range densely clad in black pine and fir on the lower slopes.

Feuding between Maniot clans over inadequate land was rife and once started could last for months or years although they agreed truces every now and then to tend to the crops. The fortified ‘tower’ houses characteristic of this area were built so that clansmen could fire at each other, raising them up to five storeys so as to be able to catapult rocks onto opponent’s roofs. Villages full of such houses, now desolate and strangely quiet, are scattered throughout the ‘Inner Mani’ nestled among acres of abandoned terracing where crops, probably vines or olives, used to grow. The population fled from their homes in 1920 to settle in the United States. Why no one seems to know but could it be famine due to crop failure?

Vatheia at the southernmost extremity of the peninsular is typical of the neglect and decay but rich Athenians and, perhaps, Americans of Maniot descent are returning to restore the famous towers, some as hunting lodges for the brief autumn shoot of quail and turtle dove. Mani’s main town, Aeropolis, is delightful. We had coffee there accompanied by a light, crispy, doughnutty thing with feta cheese which was absolutely scrumptious.

Lunch of delicious whitebait and Greek salad outside in the rain on the waterfront at Koroni, one of the ‘eyes of Venice’ was delightful. The stepped streets of the town, lying below the 13th century Venetian castle and the houses with their wrought iron balconies have changed little since the town’s origin in 1830.

Our base for the night, Methoni, is the other ‘eye of Venice’, named as such for the protection afforded to Venice against hostile Ottoman fleets entering the Adriatic from the east. The walls of the rambling Venetian castle at Methoni, later modified by
the Turks and the French, enclose the remains of two hamams, a Venetian church and minaret bases. The Turks however had the final say by building a fort on the islet of Bourzi beyond the Venetian sea gate.

Surprisingly on an island just south of the town Greece’s first lighthouse was built in 1896 by order of Queen Victoria of England!

We spent an uncomfortable night in Methoni due to Mosquito attack but the Hotel Castello was clean and inexpensive. Supper at the ‘Klimateria’ restaurant was of typical Greek cuisine and excellent and we enjoyed a nightcap in the ‘local’ down the road. Although the Pub was packed with mostly young people drinking, the drunkenness that is prevalent in the UK was not apparent.

The Geek Revolution and the 1821 to 1831 War of Independence from the Ottoman Empire were fought in the Peloponnese and so modern Greece grew from the battlefields of this region. Independence was decided at Pylos at the naval battle of Navarino, the town’s former name. A fleet of 27 Russian, French and English ships entered Navarino Bay where the Ottoman fleet of 89 ships lay at anchor. The intention was merely to intimidate the Ottomans into leaving the Bay but the allied fleet was fired upon and a full scale battle ensued. By nightfall three quarters of the Ottoman fleet was sunk with negligible allied casualties. Greek independence followed. The bay of Navarino now looks a beautiful, safe and sheltered place to anchor!

The Peloponnese has a varied landscape dominated by forested mountains between which the fertile river valleys and plains host cultivation of all kinds including citrus trees and vegetables and fruits. Olive groves abound around Kalamata and the south west of the region and the west coast between Methoni in the south and Patra in the north is given to tourism and boasts some of the Mediterranean’s finest beaches. Ancient archaeological sites are profuse the most renowned of which, Olympia, lies at the confluence of the rivers Alfeios and Kladeos in the pine and cypress clad foothills of the Folios Mountains in the Eleia (Ilia) region.

A religious sanctuary on the site of Olympia flourished since Mycenaean times and there are indications that Games were being held on the site in 1000BC. In 776BC the leader of the Eleians, Iphotos, rededicated the Games to Zeus and named the site Olympia after the god’s abode on Mount Olympus. This date marks the first Olympiad and from then on every four years Pan-Hellenic contests were held attracting athletes from all the Greek city states. During the games the Olympic Truce, still honoured in the modern Games, was in force and all hostilities between states were suspended.

The stadium where the Games were held was 212.5 metres long by 28.5 metres wide. The 45,000 spectators sat on raised grass terracing all round and the stone exedra (enclosure) of the Hellanodikai or Judges opposite the altar to the goddess Demeter Chamyne are still evident. Women were not allowed to take part in or watch the Games, perhaps because the men competed naked! The Romans took control of the Games, which included sprinting, wrestling, boxing and equestrian events, until they were banned by the Christians as being pagan in 393AD. The institution of the Olympic Games had flourished for twelve centuries and had made a brilliant contribution to the history and development of sport.

Fifteen centuries later in 1896 the Games were revived in their birthplace, Greece and since then every four years a torch bearer starts out from Olympia bearing the sacred flame to the venue of the Games, the next of which, fittingly, is of course London.

The monuments or remains thereof at Olympia, both Greek and Roman, dating from as early as the 6th century BC are truly impressive and survive in such completeness as to give a good idea of the grandeur of the buildings and the form of the layout of the entire complex. The 5th century BC Temple of Zeus, the centrepiece of the site, with its massive Doric columns some standing and some laying where they collapsed as a result of an earthquake is magnificent and the various Gymnasia where the athletes trained are of enormous proportion. The Council House where the athletes swore the oath before the Games and the Guesthouses are all quite outstanding. Even the Roman Emperor Nero’s enormous house, built for the single year that he competed here and won every event by cheating, impresses.

Achaia, the extreme north western region of the Peloponnese, embraced Christianity earlier than the remainder of Greece and the Apostle St Andrew preached and was martyred in the capital, Patras.

As well as its fine beaches, the west coast of Achaia in the vicinity of Kalogria and its lagoons ranks as one of Europe’s largest wetlands. Rare wildlife abounds there and areas of sand dunes support Aleppo pine and valonea oaks. The area is clearly extremely fertile and, as well as a wide variety of salad and vegetables, gourds and pumpkin are plentiful.

The 13th century AD Frankish Chlemousti Castle was on a hill overlooking the plain around Kalogria and the port of Killini. A good view can be had from the castle ramparts of the surrounding area and as far as the Ionian Islands.

Patras, the capital of the Peloponnese and Greece’s third city and second port is no beauty and had no interest for us so we bypassed it on a magnificent motorway that ran mostly through tunnels. We emerged from the end of one of these tunnels to see the magnificent Rion-Andirrion suspension bridge completed in 2004. This impressive structure is the longest cable stayed bridge in the world at 2.252 metres. The narrow straight over which the bridge spans and the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth is a windy place that we will have to negotiate next spring.

The final leg of our 2000 mile tour of mainland Greece found us driving along the west coast the Sterea Ellada overlooking the beautiful Ionian Islands. We lunched on the waterfront at Astakos. On the lagoon entering Lefkas the first of the Flamingos welcomed us back to our winter home.

Greece in 7 Days - The Northwest

The first day of our excursion to the Greek mainland took us north to the Epirus region where mythology has it that the Gates of Hades were situated at the confluence of the Rivers Acheron and Kokytos. It is said that Haron, the ferryman, waited for the souls and, after they paid him some coins for the ride, they were allowed to enter Pluto’s kingdom. So, as the song goes, don’t pay the ferryman!

Ali Pasha, an Albanian by birth, rebuilt Ioannina, Epirus’s principal town, in 1815 during the Ottoman rule and the Pasha mosque, now a museum, still stands within the walls of the fortress. Pasha was a great administrator but a murderer nonetheless and, having great ambition to form a Greco-Albanian state and gain independence from his overlords, he received his just reward by losing his own life at the hands of the Sultan.

Plentiful olive groves and citrus orchards fill the lush plains south of the Pindos Mountains and there are many trout farms along the river valley. Steep narrow roads and hairpin bends took us into this range that stretches from the west coast eastward to Macedonia and to the Albanian border in the north. The Pindos includes two National parks, Greece’s second highest mountain at 2640m and the world’s second deepest canyon, the Vikos gorge.

It was the Vikos gorge and the area of the Zagoria that we had particularly wanted to see. Some of Europe’s most spectacular scenery can be found here and clinging to the pine forested hillsides some 46 traditional Zagorian villages survive with their houses constructed with local stone walls and roof coverings.

In Monodendri, south of the Vikos Gorge, we ate traditional cheese and spinach pie for lunch after which we drove upward to Beloi and then walked through the dense aromatic bushes of the maquis, where hung mistletoe, among the grazing cows to the very edge of a sheer precipice falling to the river in the Gorge 1500 metres below. The view over the Gorge was stunning and there was silence up there broken only by the faint whisper of the breeze, cow bells and the calls of the Vlach shepherds in the valleys below. The shepherds are a dying breed however as the villagers, especially the younger generation, prefer to earn their living from tourism.

European brown bears, wolves, roe deer and wild boar can be found here but they are wary of man having been persecuted by farmers and goatherds for hundreds of years. They are protected now but, needless to say, we saw none. We did however glimpse eagles and other birds of prey, perhaps Egyptian vultures, circling in the thermals.

Memorable and distinctive features of the Zagoria are the early eighteenth century arched packhorse bridges. We saw fine examples of single span and three span bridges near the village of Kipoi. The steep pathways are ridged so that the mules and horses could find a foothold.

Our haven for the night was Megalo Papigko, one of the finest traditional villages at the northern end of the Gorge with impressive views along the Gorge. The old lady at the Taverna Killiopi welcomed us with open arms and kisses. The bed was hard but the supper of spicy pork and local wine was delicious.

If our welcome at the Taverna was warm then our departure was torrid with the old lady in tears. After a good breakfast we drove down from the village with the sun rising through the Gorge. The foothills were ablaze with extraordinarily vivid autumnal colour from the vast variety of deciduous trees intermingled with the dark evergreen pine, the invigorating smell of which pervaded the air. Now we know the origin of ‘the burning bush’. Swathes of wild cyclamen and crocus, from the stamen of which comes saffron, and the odd wild orchid adorn the grassy slopes to complete the rich and vibrant picture.

The lower slopes of the Pindos Mountains to the south are a popular ski centre with its principal resort of Metsovo, once a small village occupied by the Vlach shepherds. The place became one of the region’s most important centres having been granted tax privileges in Ottoman times for guarding the nearby strategic Katara pass that crosses the Pindos. Local merchants invested their new found wealth in the town and continue to do so today by providing grants and endowments to support the local craftspeople.

The sight of the natural sandstone towers of Meteora rising out of the Thessaly plain is extraordinary. The fact that these pinnacles, some of which are 700 metres high, have monasteries on the top of them is unbelievable but true. Caves within the rocks provided safe refuge for hermits during the 10th century AD and from the 14th century AD monks built twenty four monasteries perched on high hoping to see God more clearly through the thin blue air of the summits and, dwelling there in total isolation and privation, to achieve lives of Christian perfection! The communities reached their peak in the 17th century, the monasteries being richly endowed by prominent Greek Christian families but by the 19th century fortunes were reversed and most had fallen into ruin. In the 1920’s stairs were cut to make the remaining six inhabited monasteries more accessible and today a religious revival is taking place financed in part by the hordes of tourists clambering over the buildings.

How these edifices built in the first place is astonishing. It seems that the rocks were scaled by means of scaffolding lashed to a series of timbers wedged into the crevices. These structures were replaced later by incredibly long ladders although visitors and goods could be hauled up by block and tackle in nets swinging giddily with the threat of the rope slipping round the capstan or breaking to plunge the passenger to his death on the ground hundreds of metres below. Nets are still used today for goods and building materials but the capstan is driven by electric motor!

We visited two of the monasteries or should I say one monastery and one convent. The convent of Rousanou founded in the 13th century by St Barbara and, standing on a precipitous rock and occupied by fourteen nuns, was rebuilt in its present form in the 16th century. Its church of the Metamorphosis is renowned for its horrific frescoes showing sinners in hell being eaten by lions. The nuns craft beautiful lacework, tapestry and embroidery, paint icons, keep bees and produce honey and candles there from.

The monastery of Varlaam, now housing seven monks, was founded in the early 16th century, the rock having first been inhabited by hermits in 1350. Apart from an interesting church and a treasury of significant wealth, the monastery is renowned for its outsized cask made in the 16th century to hold 13,000 litres of wine or nearly enough to keep us going for about 50 years!

A long drive through the fertile plains of Thessaly, birthplace of the Centaurs, cultivated almost wholly with cotton, took us to a late and unplanned stop at Lamia and to the only accommodation available in this non tourist area, an expensive hotel. The redeeming features were that the luxurious room had a huge comfortable bed, BBC World TV and an ensuite bathroom with a bath! The hotel did not have a restaurant however and there was no Taverna nearby. There was a Carrefour supermarket next door, however, where we bought half a roast chicken and a couple of hot vegetable dishes from their deli counter, two plastic plates and sets of stainless steel cutlery which we took back to our room to eat washed down with a bottle of reasonable good local wine all for a total of €16.

After a typical continental buffet breakfast we joined the Athens motorway and drove through olive groves and cherry orchards along the coast overlooking the Island of Evvia, Greece’s second largest island of which we saw little through the mist. We cut westward inland through rolling hills and fertile valleys to Mount Parnassus which at 2457 metres dominates the region of Sterea Ellada. The Mountain, the lower slopes of which are covered with Cephalonian fir, is the international symbol of poetry and the mythological home of the Muses and the god Apollo.

Views over the azure sea and rock strewn foreshore of the Gulf of Corinth from the fragrant Aleppo pine and heather covered slopes of the Gerania hills heralded our imminent arrival at the impressive Corinth canal. Rather than risk sailing round the dreaded Cape Matapan, the southernmost point of the Peloponnese, the ancients would beach their boats, drag them six kilometres across the isthmus here on a paved slipway and relaunch them on the other side. Next spring we will avoid the feared cape not by dragging Bella over the isthmus but by sailing through the canal that they have conveniently built for us! Nero started construction in 1st Century AD but the 23 metre wide cutting through the sandstone was only completed between 1882 and 1893. What a mammoth task it must have been to dig this volume of sandstone without the use of today’s machines. One marvels at it but I wonder where they dumped all the spoil!

Ancient Corinth, built by the Romans circa 46AD, prospered from its position on the trade route between the Saronic and Corinthian Gulfs, the shortest way between the eastern Mediterranean and the Adriatic and Italy. With a population of three quarters of a million it was Greece’s largest Roman city and it gained a reputation for immoral living which St Paul criticised in 52AD. The site was closed for the day when we arrived in the early afternoon either because of winter hours or because staff hadn’t turned up for work! We don’t know which to believe of the two stories given to us! We were able to get reasonably close glimpses of three of the major elements of the town from outside the perimeter fence – the Theatre, the striking temple of Apollo and the marble paved Lechaion Way that linked the town with its sea port. The Bema or platform where St Paul was accused of sacrilege by the Jews of Corinth was also apparent.