Sail the Dream

The Final Chapter?

2010-10-10T11:57:00.000Z

The spring flowers had gone but the Ionian Islands were as green and lush as they were when we left to go east in April 2009. No wonder because it rains a lot here. For most of the first and last weeks of September the rain and mist gave our anchorages a spectre more akin to a Scottish Loch than the Mediterranean in late summer.

So wet and windy has it been that we feel the onset of winter and so we have sought the shelter and convenience, particularly that of constant electricity and water, of Lefkas marina where we have been delighted to meet up with old friends.

Whilst in the Ionian we have visited those places that we failed to see the last time we were here. Ay Euphemia, Cephalonia, is a pretty little place with a fairly well sheltered harbour but few other facilities for yachtsmen except the inevitable Tavernas. Even the Bank and its ATM have been closed. We endeavoured to hire a car to tour the Island but there was not a car available for a week!

We therefore caught a bus to the visit the capital of the Island, Argostoli, thereby seeing a little of the Island of Cephalonia on the journey. The Island is mountainous with its highest peak of 1600m. The valleys and lower slopes of the mountains are green with olives and the unique Cephalonian pine. Cephalonia was first inhabited in 50,000BC and has had a chequered history of occupation ever since but it is the Venetian influence that remains dominant not that many original buildings of that period or any other remain after the devastating earthquake of 1953. Argostoli has been reconstructed quite sympathetically however. Evidence of that earthquake abounds throughout the Island with abandoned villages and ruined buildings.

We were invited to the nearby village of Makriotika for the festival 'Gennisis tis Theotokou' marking the end of summer and the birth of the Virgin Mary, an important date in the Orthodox calendar. We eat souvlaki and drank local white wine, listened to live traditional Greek music and watched folk dancing by the local population. There is a hint of Russian, Jewish and even Irish in the dancing. At around 0100 we had had our fill of the evening's festivities and, being without transport, started to walk the 4km back to the boat but, thankfully, Miggy hitched a lift from the first car that passed. It was an enlightening and enjoyable evening.

As is generally the case the wind arranged itself so that it was on the nose after every corner we turned on the way from Ay Euphemia to the village of Kioni on the east coast of Ithaca. The entrance to the bay in which the harbour lies is marked by three old windmills on the southern headland. The bay itself nestles in the densely wooded slopes of pine, cypress and olive on which the whitewashed houses of the village are huddled. In twenty years the number of school kids fell from 600 to 20 as a large number of the inhabitants emigrated to America and Australia. Many of the houses, some of which are in ruin and others neglected, are still owned by these expats. Summer holiday villas and apartments have sprung up on the hillsides to supplement the falling population but our guess is that the place goes to sleep in the winter with very few inhabitants remaining. Nonetheless this is probably the prettiest place that we have visited by sea in the Ionian.

The Islands of Kastos and Kalamos are charming but their harbours are, like the entire Ionian even in late September, filled to capacity not only with flotilla loads of charter boats but also with what I term the British Ionian Brigade, the Northern Division of which is prevalent. Members of this Brigade tend to keep their yachts in the Ionian and sail them from time to time in the summer months either following an established route between restaurants or hogging space on town quays and going nowhere! Spring is the time to sail in the Ionian and, indeed, any of the popular areas in the Mediterranean, Adriatic or Aegean.

The town of Palairos on the mainland deserves a mention if only for the 'Taj' restaurant where one eats superb Indian curries with the Mediterranean water lapping at one's feet.

The sun has now set on the final day of our voyage of adventure during which we have sailed 8000 miles and visited 280 harbours and anchorages in eleven different countries.

Our enjoyment the last five years has been immense both on the water and ashore during the winter exploring the culture and history of our host nations and living with the people of those nations.

Our forays inland have taken us to diverse locations such as the white villages, the Alhambra and Seville in Andalucía, an oasis camp in the Sahara Desert, Venice, the ancient cities of Mycenae, Delphi, Delos and Olympia as well as the Pindos mountains and the rock top monasteries of Meteora in Greece and the strange and unique Cappadocia region in Turkey to name but a few. We have been fascinated by the wealth of history in the Mediterranean and have followed in the footsteps of Odysseus, St Paul, two St Johns and the Virgin Mary, the Crusaders, the Phoenicians, Alexander the Great and a host of Roman Emperors.

Many people have asked us 'why are we giving up'. We tell them that we have achieved what we set out to do during our five year project having seen and done all that we wish in the Mediterranean and that we are not giving up sailing, it being in our blood. We will miss Bella enormously and being without a yacht on Lymington River will be a strange feeling after so many years.

Miggy and I have bonded better than ever during our life in a shoebox, we understand each other more fully and have grown more tolerant of each other's shortcomings. Opinion as to whether or not we would live aboard for an extended period again be it in the Mediterranean or elsewhere is, I believe, divided between us. Life is short, however, and we are of like mind in wishing to see more of the world and to settle back in the UK once again amongst our family and friends. On this note we are looking forward with relish to spending Christmas and the New Year at home.

Westward Ho

2010-09-07T16:19:00.000Z

Rather than face the dragons, storm and tempest that lurk off Capes Matapan and Tainaro in the southern extremities of the Peloponnese we continued our journey westward the way we had travelled east by way of the Corinth Canal. Having paid our dues we waited an hour or so for the westbound convoy to be summoned boat by boat to proceed to transit this 19^th century feat of engineering. Two large Greek RIBs jumped the queue as is the custom in shops wherever these people are faced with others in front of them. We were astounded to discover that there is a word for queue in the Greek vocabulary!

On our way through the Corinth Gulf we stopped at Galaxidhi and the island of Trizonia both of which were as delightful as we remembered when we last called in April 2009 albeit now crowded with tourists and yachts. Trizonia was Onassis's first choice of island to buy but, being unable to agree terms with the locals, had to settle for the island of Skorpio in the Ionian.

It was mid August and overbearingly hot with temperatures climbing to 38°C in the shade by mid afternoon. Whilst we have a windscoop and ample shades in the form of foredeck and boom awnings and a cockpit bimini with side flaps and various other bits of material, Miggy found herself spending a lot of the day moving the covers around to blot out the ever moving sun and to take advantage of any zephyr that graced us with its presence. To make matters worse temperatures below were such that we had to begin our slumbers in the cockpit until able to transfer to the forecabin in the early hours of the morning.

In Galaxidhi Andreas Grivas still stalks the quay selling fuel, water and electricity to unsuspecting yacht owners, the latter two commodities at the highly inflated price of 5€ each for 24 hours. This bully ordered everybody to pay with no grace whatsoever. We refused to do so until he asked us politely with at least a please in English or Greek and also to give us a receipt. The saga concluded with this man threatening to throw me into the water and indeed manhandling me with that intent. This was witnessed by Angelo, a superb ambassador for the town, who suggested we report the matter to the Port Police. This we did through a translator bought in for the ocassion over a period of four and a half hours; not that this worried us as we were in the welcome cool of an airconditioned office. It transpired that they have a file on Grivas in respect of false accounting and the Captain of Police was grateful for our evidence to support their imminent action against the man. We were asked if we wished to press personal charges for assault but we declined wishing only to help the townsfolk be rid of this objectionable thief.

The moderate easterly breezes forecast for our sail from Trizonia to Messolonghi in the Patras Gulf turned out to be 25 knots shy on the quarter. Bella romped along at over 7 knots under poled out genoa and full main. Having passed under the magnificent Rion suspension bridge we did put a slab in the main and a roll in the genoa and it made no appreciable difference to Bella's speed. She loved every minute of it as did we.

With the tide under us as well we arrived at Messolonghi, meaning 'amid the lagoons' a couple of hours sooner than we had expected. We sailed up the dredged canal past the Pelades or fishermen's houses standing on stilts in the shallow waters of the lagoon reminiscent of those we have seen in Thailand or Borneo. Sifting shellfish from the mud of the lagoon, particularly the golden-shelled fan mussel is however a diminishing livelihood and the majority of the former huts have been extended and upgraded as holiday homes.

We dropped anchor in the rather bland, but protected part of the lagoon that purports to be Messolonghi harbour but has little or no facilities for yachtsmen except a developing marina. Two pontoons connected to the shore are in place complete with water and electricity and more are planned but yachts are generally berthed too close together. The marina office and a small shower block with washing machine have been built and a larger replacement building is nearing completion but is unlikely to be so completed for this winter. Let us hope for those who overwinter here that we are wrong.

Modern concrete Messolonghi town has little to show to reflect its significant place in the history of modern Greece. In 1821 the town became the centre of resistance to the Turks during the War of Independence. Very few of the fine buildings that would have graced the streets when Lord Byron came to fight for the liberation of Greece in January 1824 remain and those that do lay in ruin. The poor chap had little time to fight for the cause in which he believed so strongly as he died of malarial fever just three months after his arrival in Messolonghi at the tender age of 36. He remains a hero of the town and underneath his statue in the Garden of Heroes is said to lie his heart. Two years later nine thousand Greek fighters battled their way through the year long Turkish blockade of the town; those left behind detonated explosives just as they were taken by the enemy. This self sacrifice led to the Turks surrendering Messolonghi in 1928 without firing a shot.

We sighted Messolonghi harbour's large and, we guess, old resident turtle and on the way out of the canal we were accompanied the resident dolphin.

As we entered the Ionian Sea from the Gulf of Patras the wind turned to the west just as forecast and we had a delightful beam reach in no more than 15 knots up the mainland coast to Astakos. Byron stopped here, when the town was called Dragomestre, on his way to Messolonghi. We wonder if Byron experienced, as we did, the overpowering smell of sewage in the harbour. Although no raw stuff is visible there are vast shoals of grey mullet scooping back and forth on the surface of the water; a sure sign of very unpleasant things. Our previous visit to Astakos was in 2008 during our winter tour when these ghastly conditions were not evident. Old times' sake brought us here but we certainly won't be back again.

We are, however, back in the beautiful Ionian Islands and the great pleasure of meeting up with a number of old friends has relegated things not so good to the most distant part of our memory.

Evvoia and the Saronic

2010-08-13T16:56:00.000Z

With the Sporades behind us to the east the next leg of our journey was to take us south down the Gulf of Evvoikos along the western coast of Evvoia and into the Saronic Gulf.

The chequered history of Evvoia from Macedonian rule in 338BC to Turkish government in 1833 has left a range of religious cultures from Greek Orthodox and Islam to the descendants of 15^th century Albanians who still speak their own dialect of Arvanitika. Immigration clearly remains a problem with the influx of Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi and eastern Europeans in significant numbers evident on the Island; undoubtedly an illegal back door into Europe.

Evvoia is Greece's second largest island and its scenery varies markedly from the fertile green valleys and pine covered mountains of the north, reminiscent of the Sporades, to the barren rocky landscape of the south echoing that of the Cyclades.

A Greek mainlander remarked to us that 'Evvoia is different'. It is and on the whole we were unimpressed with the Island. This may be a jaundiced view as we saw just the coastal strip, being unable to explore inland as car hire was unavailable in the limited number of places that we felt comfortable about leaving Bella for any length of time unattended.

Apart from the small ports of Limni, a wealthy 19^th century seafaring town with character and charm and Karavos, where we had our seawater pump rebuilt by a tractor dealer who dabbles expertly with marine engines, the towns along the coastal strip were uninteresting bottom of the market tourist resorts mainly frequented by Greeks on holiday or on day trips from the mainland served by a disproportionate plethora of car ferries. Even Eretria, the site of the important ancient city state, ranks among these easily forgotten places although we do remember its anchorage and the extreme discomfort therein due to the wash of constant large roro ferries driven too speedily by lunatic so called professional masters whose grasp of seamanship is nonexistent. It is my belief that these 'drivers', like the majority of young and middle aged Greek men have their brain cells lodged, by some quirk of nature, in their testicles such is their excess of testosterone.

Chalkida, the noisy dirty capital of the Evvoia, is hardly worthy of comment in this blog except on two accounts, its road bridge and its tides. A bridge has spanned the narrow fast flowing Euripus channel separating Evvoia from the mainland since the 6^th century BC. Legend has it that Aristotle was so frustrated at being unable to fathom the ever changing current flowing under the bridge that he threw himself off the bridge into the current that perplexed him so much and drowned. Quite clearly Rod Heikell, author of the Imray Greek Waters Pilot, is also confused by the tides here. Contrary to his statement that there is no tide flowing through the berths on the east quay it flows like the spring ebb in the Needles channel. Perhaps god Rod should do the honourable thing and follow Aristotle's example, metaphorically speaking of course; we would wish him no harm. This is just one of the many significant discrepancies in Heikell's work. Although we gather that a new edition of the Imray pilot is imminent, yachtsmen cruising Greek Waters may be better served with the Greek Pilot 'Greece – Sea Guide' published in four volumes. These are expensive but superb with detailed charts and excellent pilotage notes in English as well as Greek. Alternatively there is a series of Greek charts with excellent harbour plans and pilotage notes in English.

Once one has located the Port Police office that deals with bridge opening, one of four Port Police buildings and tucked away in a back street without a signpost, one has to establish, with some difficulty it must be said, whether or not the bridge will open that day. It has scheduled closing days during the summer and in addition unscheduled days due to understaffing, strike or pure laziness. We had to make four or five visits to the office involving a long walk in the sweltering heat to finally get confirmation of bridge opening and to pay for our transit Actually getting through the bridge is another matter; one has to listen on VHF Ch 12 from 2200 for a 20 minute warning that the bridge will open. This could be at any time from 2200 until the early hours depending upon when bridge control reckons there is slack water. At this point bridge control will announce who transits first, northbound or southbound traffic. Having determined this each vessel is called individually with permission to transit. We were called at 0230 and after waiting for 16 vessels to transit northbound transited the narrow opening in a strong adverse tide. Slack water my foot!

If it were not so annoying this would all have been highly amusing. The Port Police administration is typical of officialdom throughout Greece; overstaffed, ineffective, disorganised in the extreme and buried under mountains of unnecessary paperwork. It is no wonder that Greece finds itself in its present position with an inept Government and a flawed economy when the majority of its male population avidly follow the national pastimes of avoiding work and evading taxes. Oh, they do have one other; eating and drinking coffee which they do incessantly at any time day and night.

We had some good sailing in the Evvoikos Gulf however which at times turned out to be somewhat livelier than expected necessitating frequent putting in and shaking out reefs in mainsail and headsail in the strong gusty breezes.

Now on the more pleasurable part of this episode, the Saronic island of Aigina and Nea Epidauros on the north eastern coast of the Peloponnese. To reduce the journey time from the south of Evvoia to Aigina we called in at Porto Rafti on the mainland for a night in a pleasantly secure anchorage and then at the delightful, albeit windy, anchorage at Ormos Sounion further south.

Overlooking the bay high on Cape Sounion stands the 444BC temple of Poseidon, god of the sea. Sixteen of its original thirty four slender Doric local white marble columns remain each cut with only 16 flutings instead of the usual 20 to reduce the surface area exposed to salt spray erosion. Byron carved his name on one of the columns and wrote this verse to capture his moments at Sounion:-

'Sunium's marble steep

Where nothing save the waves and I

May hear our mutual murmurs sweep'

The Saronic island of Aigina, our next port of call, has been inhabited for 4000 years. In the 7^th century BC the Island was the first place in Europe to mint its own silver coins which became accepted currency throughout the Greek speaking world. The accomplished seafarers of Aigina controlled most of the foreign trade in Greece thereby accumulating vast wealth and incurring the wrath of Athens, only some 12 miles distant, who finally conquered the Island in 456BC. The fortunes of the Island declined during Turkish and Venetian rule but its prominence was restored in 1828 when it was declared the capital of modern Greece. The realisation that an island is a pretty silly place to place a capital must have dawned quickly as Nafplio took over the mantle of supremacy in 1829 and then Athens in 1834!

The port at Aigina town is picturesque but extremely busy with ferries, hydrofoils, a large fishing fleet and more yachts than it can accommodate. Fine Neo Classical mansions and the fish market on the waterfront and narrow streets make Aigina a charming town and the church of Agios Nektarios a short distance inland is said to be the second largest Orthodox Church after the Agia Sofia in Istanbul. The Island is a prolific source of the pistachio nut and those on sale everywhere in Aigina town are fresh and flavoursome.

A minor berthing disagreement with our neighbouring Greek yacht confirmed my opinion, not necessarily that of Miggy, that the majority of Greek men are arrogant, inconsiderate and unhelpful to the extent of being obstructive. There is, of course, the minority who are kind and helpful in the extreme and we have met them all; correction, I meant to say many of them!

There is apparently a negotiating procedure that goes on with Greeks to get past the word 'impossible' and continue the negotiation to a conclusion. Miggy has the patience and humility to be able to pursue this tradition but I have neither the time nor inclination to do so. I prefer straightforwardness.

It was good to be back in Nea Epidauros again having stayed here during our Greek tour in November 2008. Then the newly completed harbour was empty of vessels and moorings but now is packed full. It is a popular place and no wonder considering the hamlet's position in a beautiful bay looking out to sea over the Methana peninsular and the islands of Kira and Aigina.

We berthed in the most unlikely place one could imagine managing to pick up laid mooring lines around our keel whilst taking Bella astern through the tortuous narrow passage between obstructions. With the help of Dimitri, the 'harbour master' and one of the 'minority', we managed to free ourselves and walk Bella back into her berth.

It is getting hot now with daytime temperatures reaching over 35°C in the shade. Whilst we have a windscoop and ample shades in the form of foredeck and boom awnings and a cockpit bimini with side flaps and various other bits of material, Miggy finds herself spending a lot of the day moving the covers around blot out the ever moving sun and take advantage of any breeze that may grace us with its presence.

We have nearly come to the end of our Mediterranean adventure and we have, with great sadness, put Bella on the market. She has performed brilliantly and has done with grace everything we have asked of her. If anyone reading this blog hears of someone wishing to buy a superbly maintained and fully kitted out Sun Odyssey 35 please put them in contact with us on +447872226912 or miggyandneal@hotmail.co.uk Full details of Bella's specification can be found at www.apolloduck.com

The Sporades

2010-07-21T10:44:00.001Z

If you wish to protect endangered species and establish a Maritime Park to do so you have to be serious about regulating the use of the area and policing it. The only such Park in Greece, the Northern Sporades National Maritime Park, established to protect the endangered Mediterranean Monk Seal and other species, is not so regulated or policed.

After a good sail from Ay Efstratios we dropped anchor in the deceptively idyllic landlocked bay of Planitis on the island of Kira Panayia or Pelagos. It is no wonder that the last monk seal seen in the area was 15 years ago considering the far from clean water we found in Planitis and the behaviour of large motor cruisers who open their garage doors and disgorge jet skis to buzz around like a swarm of flies for hours on end disturbing not only the wildlife but everything else in the surrounding area including us. It is a shame that someone has not invented a bloody great fly swat that can eliminate these vermin with one swipe.

Not a glimpse of the whales and dolphins that are supposed to be here in their numbers but we did have the pleasure of seeing the rare Eleanor's falcon, one of apparently 80 species of bird in the Park and the goats were entertaining.

The Seal Rescue Centre at Steni Vala on the eastern coast of Alonnisos, a delightful little port and village, with which we fell in love, is a derelict hut that probably died at the same time as the last monk seal.

Alonnisos, along with the other Islands of the Sporades, has a lush landscape and undulating pine clad mountains contrasting vividly with the barren and arid rocky islands groups such as the Cyclades. Abundant springs and rivers water the fertile fields and orchards of the interior of the islands to create agricultural self sufficiency and wealth. Tourism has flourished since the 1960's when the rich and famous came, some in their yachts, to savour the deserted beaches of Skiathos, Skopelos and Alonnisos. Now the Sporades, Skiathos in particular, have to cope with plane loads of holidaymakers and the likes of us poor yachties!

The Islands are known to have been colonised by the Minoans as far back as 1600BC who introduced vine and olive cultivation. Being further north and west than the other Aegean island groups there is perceptible evidence of the long Venetian occupation.

Patitiri, the capital of and ferry terminal for Alonnisos, replaces the former Chora, now a pretty village clinging to the hillside above the town. We berthed by lunchtime but by the early evening two lady Port Police officers told us to move from our berth to make way for some large motor yachts. Somewhat upset at this and in the absence of an alternative comfortable berth we decided to travel the 7 miles to Limin Skopelou on the island of Skopelos where we were fortunate to find a comfortable berth in what can be an overcrowded port. Said motor yachts came in to Skopelos the next day. Our guess was that one was carrying some Nob or the other and that the other three were guard boats.

The Port Police at Patitiri did us a favour in prompting our move to Skopelou as at about 0400 all hell let loose with gale force winds and 55 knot gusts. We are sure that our berth at Patitiri would have been untenable in these conditions. There was great activity among the crews of the many yachts berthed here securing extra shore lines, deploying additional fenders and taking up on anchors or rushing about with varying degrees of disfunctionality. We were fine with 40 metres of scope out in 5 metres of sticky mud although our aft boarding plank which was stowed at 45° to the horizontal blew vertical toward the boat and took out a blade from Wendy, the wind generator. Wendy was upset at missing one of her best chances to pump 10 to 15 amps an hour into our batteries that she literally threw a wobbly to the extent that she was about to shake herself and the boat to bits until we managed to calm her by disabling her rotation. When the wind died we admitted her to hospital and made her blade assembly complete with the spare that we carry.

Skopelos town, small as it is, has 123 churches or chapels within its boundaries. Sporadhan town houses with flower filled wooden balconies and fish tail slate tiled roofs line the maze of narrow cobbled streets intricately inlaid with sea pebbles and shells. We like the place. We retraced the steps, literally, up to three chapels and the ruins of the Venetian castle that Miggy had taken 25 years ago.

Despite a goodly breeze and a forecast of locally F6 which we thought would be east of us we had a great sail to Loutraki on the west coast of Skopelos which became a bit lively with strong gusts and big wind shifts. We berthed stern to on the visitor's pontoon and watched a Sunsail flotilla tie up on the other side under the skilled instruction and expertise of the young flotilla leader. This guy really knew what he was doing. Not a half an hour after his flock were secure the pontoon on which we were all moored came adrift from the shore. Not to a great extent did it move as it was held to the sea bed by chains and our anchors but enough for the Port Police officer to order us to move. So for the second time in a few days move we did, not to elsewhere in the harbour as we did not favour the alternatives, but to Skiathos town just 6 miles across the water.

The anchorage at Skiathos is limited by the restricted area under the flight path to the airport runway which was just half a mile from us. The town quay and pontoon are extremely busy with a melee of charter yachts, large motor cruisers and day trip boats so we are pleased to be away from it all in relative peace and to observe the mooring frolics. At night however our peace was shattered by a disco kind enough to share their 'music' with us and everybody else in the northern hemisphere until 0530. We would have preferred it had they kept their cacophony to themselves! Skiathos town is a pretty place with its cobbled streets and fine mansions but it has been overcome by tourism with all the baggage that entails. How so many tourists can be packed into such a small island defies belief but they come in their thousands each day by endless ferry movements and aircraft.

What a difference a day can make! From the noise and bustle of Skiathos town just five hours later we found ourselves moored to the quay in the only hamlet on the island of Palaio Trikeri or Virgin Trikeri measuring less than 2 miles long by 1 mile wide. We can find no explanation as to where the Virgin bit came from but the island does have 70,000 of the estimated 150,000,000 olive trees growing in Greece. So perhaps it is something to do with olives. It is an idyllic and typically Greek place with small balconied houses fronting the waterfront of the tiny bay. A few rather smart holiday villas are dotted amongst the pine and eucalyptus on the hillsides and there are two Tavernas. A tractor is the only motorised vehicle on the Island. There is not even a motor scooter, the land borne equivalent of the Jet Ski, which, being rampant and utterly irritating in this Country, should be dealt with the by the aforementioned swat.

We have enjoyed our short stay in the Sporades Islands. Despite some setbacks, Steni Vala on Alonnisos, Skopelos and the tiny Island of Palaio Trikeri have given us great pleasure.

With the season passing so swiftly we now, in the middle of July, move on to the Island of Evvoia about which we shall blog in due course.

North Eastern Aegean

2010-07-04T13:29:00.003Z

The wind was fair for our sail from Patmos to Samos and sail we did for a lot of the voyage in winds just forward of the beam ranging from five to twenty knots necessitating a good deal of sail changing. It was good to have what was at times a romping sail. Despite our fears to the contrary the sailing this season going north against the supposed prevailing northerly winds has, surprisingly, been some of the best of our entire trip.

Samos, the southernmost of the North Aegean Islands, an island with high peaks and verdant valleys, is renowned for its Muscat wine and as the birthplace of many mathematicians and philosophers. In fact the main port, Pithagorio, as the name suggests, is named after Pythagoras who was born here in 580BC. The town is built on the ruins of the ancient capital of the island and the present day jetty is built on the foundations to the ancient breakwater. Now it is a very popular tourist destination as the numerous restaurants and bars along the harbour front and the mass of non Greeks frequenting them shows.

Just outside Pithagorio lies Eupalinos's tunnel, a 1000m long aqueduct built in 529 to 524BC to provide ancient Samos with water. It remained in use until this century but perhaps the most remarkable fact is that so accurate was the surveying that when the work crews met having begun from opposite sides of the mountain there was nil vertical error.

To break the journey between Samos and the islands to the north we anchored for the night at a bay on the Turkish coast. On the face of it Sarpadere Limani appears to be a pleasant enough anchorage with good holding on a sandy bottom although open to the south west. In fact when the north westerly breeze set in we were invaded by a plague of flies. So many of them did we swat below decks that Bella resembled a 'Garibaldi' factory. It is a place to avoid at all cost!

Once again we had some good sailing during the 32 mile trip to the tiny island of Oinoussa passing the large Greek island of Chios to port and the Turkish mainland to starboard. We had decided not to call in at Chios, although this verdant yet mountainous Island is reputed to be one of the most beautiful in the Aegean, as the facilities for yachts are not good. Chios's main claim to fame, apart from being the birthplace of Homer, is the production of mastic from the mastic bush in twenty fortified 14^th to 15^th century settlements, or mastichochoria, in the south of the Island. This bush that grows nowhere else in the world secretes a resin or gum that, before the advent of petroleum based products, formed the basis of paints, cosmetics and medicines. Now this mastic is the 'chew' in all the gum chewed quite disgustingly throughout the world and spat out to foul our pavements.

A lovely statue of a mermaid grasping a ship welcomes one to Mandraki harbour on the island of Oinoussa. The tiny islets that protect the harbour from the ravages of the southerly winter storms both have monasteries built atop them. We presented our papers to the Port Police which were duly stamped many times in many places and an invoice in quadruplet issued for our mooring fees of about €6 per day. It seems that there has been a change in policy about stamping the DEKPA (permit to sail in Greek waters). Last year we were told that a stamp on the document about once a month would suffice but now it appears that every Port Police officer in the land wants to have a go.

The modest island of Oinoussa is an appealing, peaceful place that was home to some of the wealthiest Greek ship owners. Their impressive mansions and the houses of ship captains line the waterfront and the hillside village. Peaceful the island is at this time of year but apparently all changes from the 15^th July to the 15^th August when the rich and famous Greeks descend to escape the heat of the mainland. Oinoussa is one of the ten wealthiest territories in the whole of Greece.

Our landfall on Lesvos, Greece's third largest island was at Plomario, an agreeable, bustling hillside town that gained its wealth as a major shipbuilding centre in the 19^th century. The shipbuilders have left and today the town claims to be the Ouzo capital of Greece with five distilleries producing exceptional Ouzo with an alcohol content of between 38% and 48%. The accepted minimum for a quality product is 44%! Ouzo is the Greek version of a spirit found throughout the Mediterranean. The residue of grape skins left from wine pressing is boiled in a copper still to make a distillate originally called raki, the Turkish name for the spirit. The raki is flavoured with star anise or fennel. Lesvos, the birthplace of the 7^th century BC poet Sappho, continues to support itself with fishing, ouzo production and olive farming. Tourism supplements rather than dominates these traditional industries. The 11 million olive trees on the Island are reputed to be the most productive oil bearing trees in Greece. The olives are cured for eating, pressed for oil or further crushed for oil for soap. Even the remaining pulp is used as a fertilizer.

The saga of DEKPA stamping continued with a Greek Kiwi Port Police officer assuring us that the document should be stamped just once a month and that those who have insisted otherwise are young inexperienced officers who did not know the law or practice.

We were just one of three yachts in Plomario harbour and are moored stern to amongst small fishing caigues. It all seems very Greek after the crush of yachts further south. This appears to be a cruising ground for the few privately owned yachts straying north rather than a charter playground.

Mitilini, the capital of the island, had little to offer us but there are an amazing number of young local people in the town, a good number of the girls being very attractive and showing a lot of leg.

Yet again we had a cracking sail all the way from Mitilini to the anchorage at Turkish Camlik Koyu within the Ayvalik 'Lake'. Dolphins accompanied us for a good part of the journey as did the ever present Yelkouan Shearwaters expertly gliding so close to the water surface.

They do have a bit of trouble landing and taking off however both operations being far from graceful. The landing takes the form of an ungainly plop into the ocean accompanied by a good deal of spray and the taking off involves a lot of 'peddling' and rapid wing flapping before getting airborne.

We dropped the hook in Camlik Koyu which is virtually landlocked but very much more developed than described in the pilot book. We moved to the nearby much more pleasant and equally well sheltered anchorage at Kumru Koyu.

Ayvalik town was one of the many on the Aegean coast populated by the Greeks until the population exchange in 1923 and many Greek stone buildings remain but it prospered in the 19^th century with the production of olive oil, soap, wine and salt. There is an extensive Thursday market including a vast fruit and vegetable marketplace where we stocked up on superb quality produce. It is a pleasant working town where tourism is in its infancy. We had a beer in a cafe on the pavement served in tea mugs so it didn't resemble alcohol! Ayvalik sits on the shore of a virtually landlocked lake the only entrance to which is a narrow, shallow buoyed channel and the small marina is remarkably full of small Turkish yachts and very few visitors. One of the joys of sailing in this part of the Aegean is the lack of yachts, particularly the charter yachts and gullets that plague the harbours and anchorages further south and east.

Four baby swallows being fed in their nest amused us. It seemed that the parents feeding regime is neither selective nor fair, the chick hollering loudest and pushing hardest winning out on every occasion. Perhaps we are being unfair and there is a rotation but perhaps also it is a case of the survival of the strongest. No doubt Darwin, or to be more accurate Wallace who actually did the research and wrote the paper could tell us. It seems that Darwin did recognise Wallace in the early publication of the 'theory' but that his name disappeared as time progressed. One of the baby swallows flew out of the nest or more likely fell considering the cramped conditions. It caused great consternation to the adults and it took them some time and expertise in persuasion and demonstration to guide the bemused and, we guess somewhat frightened, chick back into the fold.

We slipped our mooring lines for the last time from a Turkish dock at about 0730 for the 26 mile sail to Mithymna on the north coast of Lesvos. Turkey is a special place and its people and their hospitality, the scenery and the way of life we will miss greatly. We will carry fond memories with us forever. Dolphins in the buoyed channel from Ayvalik Lake to the open sea came to say farewell.

A vast Byzantine castle, later modified by the Genoese, perched high on a hill marks the picturesque town on Mithymna or Molyvos whose houses hang on the steep slopes below. Prior to the population exchange in 1923 over a third of the inhabitants were Muslim landed gentry who graced the town with many fine three storey mansions and a dozen street fountains some of which retain their ornate Arabic inscriptions in stone. The main streets are cobbled and steep but totally shaded being, unusually, covered with vines. In fact antiquity Mithymna was renowned for its vineyards. The town is popular with tourists who flock to the many restaurants and it is a haunt for artists perhaps in the wake of the 7^th century BC poet Arion who was born here. Legend has it that Achilles besieged the town until the king's daughter fell in love with him and opened the gates though he slayed her for her treachery!

The harbour, surrounded by Tavernas and bars, is a pleasant if a bit rolly place to be.

A short hop along the north coast of Lesvos took us to Sigri the on the westernmost tip of the Island and our departure place for striking west across the Aegean.

The western half of Lesvos, in stark contrast to the green and fertile east, is dry and barren. This may be because of the weather or past deforestation or perhaps the fact that the region is volcanic. The area around Sigri has been declared a European Geopark because of its 'petrified forest'.

Yes, trees have been turned to stone where they stand having been buried by volcanic ash and basalt for 20 million years! Little Sigri town has a world class Natural History Museum focusing very much on volcanic action and the petrified remains of plant life of the distant past. The exhibits are quite extraordinary. Sigri town is not picturesque but it is functional and pleasant. Greek life goes on as it has for years without the interference of the tourist; for the moment that is!

The anchorage at Sigri is well protected and peaceful. That is as long as one manages to get the yacht into the anchorage in the first place!

Having made our northing since the beginning of May we now strike out westward toward the Sporades Island breaking the journey about half way at the tiny barren volcanic island of Ay Efstratios. The Island suffered a catastrophic earthquake in 1968 in which many lives were lost. It has a population of less than 500 most of whom live in the one fishing hamlet situated on the western coast. Ruins of collapsed houses of the former hillside village remain as a poignant reminder and the hamlet has been rebuilt wisely with single storey construction in the valley below. There is the look of determination yet happiness on the faces of the local people, not many of whom are aged. Ay Efstratios is a thoroughly agreeable place and we are glad to have decided at the last moment to include the Island, the most northerly Greek island that we shall visit, in our travels.

Farewell to the Dodecanese

2010-06-11T11:15:00.001Z

Having spent rather longer than we would have wished in Palon, Nisyros Island the wind finally changed in direction and moderated to give us a cracking sail to Kos where we prepared for the arrival of Jane and John, Miggy's sister and brother in law. Bella was in her element and doing what she enjoys most; sailing in 15 to 20 knots of wind on a beam reach.

Onward then to Turkish Gumusluk, a protected anchorage on the north west tip the Bodrum peninsula. The anchorage is pretty but quite deep (we had 45m of chain down) and the village stands on the site of Myndos built in 350BC the remains of some of which are sunken beneath the waters of the bay, the former ancient harbour.

A tour of Gulluk Korfezi, the area in which we were to cruise with Jane and John, did nothing to endear us to the place; in fact quite the opposite. We had entered holiday home hell, the hillsides surrounding the gulf being crammed with white box like buildings more akin to painted barrack blocks. There is hardly a bit of maquis or rock and certainly not a tree to be seen between these endless unimaginative developments. It is Planning gone horribly wrong; an utter nightmare. The mountainous terrain and sparkling blue waters of the Turkey that we love has disappeared. Even the people, mostly fishermen who tend the many fish farms in these waters are not the friendly Turks that we have come to know. In Asin and Gulluk harbours local boats were taking up all the space on the long quay with splayed bowlines and there was no sign of any help in finding us a place to berth in the spaces that did exist between boats. This is clearly not yachtsman territory; we may be tolerated but we are not welcome!

A rather disappointing day was made a little more exciting when we were lashed with torrential rain; violent thunderstorms too close for comfort and squalls of 40 knots of wind. Legends of boys swimming with dolphins originated at 5^th century AD Iassos, now Asin, and we did see three dolphins during our 45 miles at sea.

Our itinerary for Jane and John's visit naturally changed to go firstly to Gumusluk for a taste of real Turkey and then to the Greek islands of Leros, Lipsi and Agathonisi and finally to Didim Marina, Turkey where would hire a car to visit Ephesus.

Lakki town on the island of Leros has a strange feel of former times with art deco buildings dominating the skyline; in fact a fascist dream town built during the Italian occupation to represent Mussolini's vision of a new Roman Empire. The civic buildings, constructed in the mid 1930's, include a saucer shaped market, a cylindrical town hall and fascist centre and a vast hotel, cinema and theatre complex. Mussolini's summer residence still stands within the Italian naval dockyard.

The Island was occupied by the Knights of St John from 1309, by the Turks from 1522 to 1831, by the Italians in 1912 and by the Germans from 1943 until Allied liberation. A simple memorial stands on the harbour side as a poignant reminder of the sinking of HMS Intrepid during the Allied assault and the lives of the seamen lost. Leros was reunited with Greece in 1948 and when the Junta took power in 1967 they exiled political prisoners to the prison camps on the island. With its association in antiquity with Artemis, Leros, an island with rolling green hills and fertile valleys is known today, more encouragingly, for its strong tradition of music, dance and poetry.

The island of Lipsi, one of many islands claiming to be where Calypso enchanted Odysseus, is enthralling with its plethora of blue domed chapels and gaily painted houses typifying Greek island life. The waters of the bays at Lera Lipsi were crystal clear and turquoise over the sandy bottom; a swimmer's paradise.

The hamlet of Ay Yeoryiou on the tiny island of Agathonisi, the northernmost outpost of the Dodecanese archipelago, was enchanting a Greek warship took up all the space on the quay making the limited anchorage quite crowded.

Back now in Turkey the Marina at Didim is huge and only about 10% occupied. Being only a year or two old it appears pristine with modern services and an excess of extremely helpful friendly staff both in the office and on the pontoons. The Marineros are superb and attend in ribs from the marina entrance. They would leap on board and park the boat for you if requested or given the slightest opportunity. The laundry is collected from and delivered to the yacht beautifully clean, ironed and folded and the acres of yard are surrounded with chandlers, engineering shops and sail makers. There is a Carrefour Express supermarket on site and a 5 star Yacht Club the facilities of which are open to bertholders including the magnificent infinity pool. Despite its grandeur the Marina is somewhat soulless being out of the joint towns of Altinkum and Didim, resorts of the worst kind with all the baggage that goes with such places.

Ephesus, as one of the greatest ancient sites in the western world is, of course, very popular with tourists as we discovered to our chagrin. Unlike our visits to other ancient ruins made in virtual solitude, on this oppressively hot and humid day we were four amongst a hoard of many thousands disgorged from three cruise ships berthed at nearby port of Kusadasi.

The effort of trying to avoid the marching masses was, nevertheless, worthwhile and the well preserved remains of this city are remarkable. Ephesus was first inhabited around 2000BC and, although the city we see today was founded by the successor to Alexander the Great, Lysimachus, during the 4^th century BC most of the extant structures date form the Roman period when Ephesus became the principal port of the Aegean.

Of those surviving buildings the early 2^nd century AD Celsus Library with its fine colonnaded facade with statues of ladies representing wisdom, virtue, intellect and knowledge stands out supreme. Construction of the colossal 25,000 seat Great Theatre was begun in Hellenistic times and extended first by Nero in the 1^st century AD and then by Septimus Severus at the end of the 2^nd century AD. Wide colonnaded marble streets connect these magnificent remains as well as the Harbour, Stadium, the Temple of Hadrian, State Agora and Palace of the Council, the Odeon and many other notable buildings and monuments. Perhaps the most entertaining of the ruins is that of the brothel and the Latrina or public toilets.

Both St Paul and St John the Evangelist lived in Ephesus. The former spent five or six years trying to preach in the city but was banished after conflict with the locals about the God of Christians and all the pagan gods.

St John spent the last years of his century long life in Ephesus, probably between 39AD and 48AD, during which he is said to have written the fourth Book of the New Testament. He died here and was buried at the foot of Ayasuluk Hill where by the 10^th century AD Lysimachus's city of Ephesus was finally resettled because of an unhealthy climate at the original site and of its economic decline due to the silting up of the direct access to the sea.

On the Cross Jesus said to John ''She is your mother, John'' and to Mary ''This is your son, mother''. Thereupon John undertook his responsibility to the end and on his leaving Jerusalem for Ephesus took Mary with him. She spent her final years of 30AD to 35AD in peace and died in a modest house just 8km from Ephesus on Panaya-Kapulu hill. The Virgin Mary's House is a shrine revered by both Christians and Muslims alike. There is certainly an aura of sacristy and serenity within the House and at the Fountain of St Mary nearby where the healing waters once sipped by Mary are, even today, claimed to perform miracles. Our visit to the House was made more moving as we witnessed the Blessing at the end of a small service held in a tiny open air chapel nearby delivered by a visiting young Polish monk.

Between our visit to Ephesus and that to Virgin Mary's House we took a simple typically Turkish lunch in the shade at a Lokanta in the nearby town of Selcuk and on the way back to Didim we visited the ancient city of Priene. Construction of the 4^th century BC Temple of Athena was supervised and financed by Alexander the Great. The Romans did not inhabit the city because of its strong Greek ties and its importance declined until it was abandoned in Byzantine times. This neglect has resulted in the city and its monuments being one of the best preserved Hellenistic settlements to be seen.

Having taken Jane and John to the airport after a relaxed and pleasurable week of good company we consoled ourselves with a gozleme; thin filo pastry with a filling of strong goat's cheese; and a beer overlooking the beautiful Lake Bafa. Considered one of the most picturesque landscapes in Turkey with the peaks of 1500m high Mount Latmos as a backdrop Lake Bafa was an arm of the Aegean Sea until silt eventually closed the Gulf.

We departed Didim to explore the remainder of the Dodecanese islands with the first call being at the small island of Arki. Port Augusta, the main and only settlement on the island is a tiny fishing hamlet with two Tavernas on the quay. At first glance this is what it appears to be but on closer inspection it is a fake. This is a summer place only for chic Athenians to visit their posh villas. We were thus not that enamoured with the place, pretty as it looks on the face of it.

Thence to Patmos and what a difference a day makes. Patmos is a delightful island with scraggy hills and fertile valleys. Although a popular tourist resort and place of pilgrimage, the island maintains its Greek character and the people are friendly and outgoing. The popular harbour is well protected from the prevailing summer northerly winds and at just €3.75 a night is good value although there are no facilities except an agreeable little town where all yachtsmen's needs can be satisfied.

As the 'Jerusalem' of the Aegean Patmos's religious importance emanates from the presence of St John the Theologian, or Divine, on the island from 95 to 98AD having been exiled from Ephesus. This is a different chap from St John the Evangelist who earlier lived and died in Ephesus. For this period Patmos's St John lived in the Cave of the Apocalypse (Revelation) where he had a vision of fire and brimstone and dictated the Book of Revelation to his disciple, Prochoros. The very rock on which the Book was written, the indentation where the saint is said to have rested his head and the cleft in the rock where it is claimed he heard the voice of God are still visible today. The cleft, taking the form of three cracks radiating from the centre, is said to symbolise the Trinity.

High above the Cave stands the majestic fortified Monastery of Ioanni tou Theologou (John the Theologian) built in the 11^th century AD in honour of St John. The main church within the Monastery, the Katholicon which houses a revered 12^th century icon of the saint and many fine 12^th century frescos, is one of the most sacred places of worship for orthodox and western Christian faithful alike. The church is one of ten chapels built within the confines of the Monastery to satisfy the edict at the time whereby mass could only be performed once daily in any one church or chapel. At present thirty monks reside in the complex whereas it was the home for many Greeks who fled from Constantinople after that city's fall.

The enchanting white rectangular houses of the Chora (old town) huddle around the massive Monastery walls. Many of the houses, some of them mansions of former sea captains wealthy merchants, have unique stone window mouldings decorated with a Byzantine cross. From this jewel of Byzantine architecture with its maze of narrow winding cobbled streets there are fine views over the Patmos archipelago and further afield to other northern Dodecanese islands and the island of Samos, our next port of call.

And so we finally leave the Dodecanese, an archipelago 180 miles long scattered along the Turkish coast, having visited nine of the twelve inhabited islands (actually there are thirteen but Dodecanese has a better ring to it than Decatrianese we feel) from Kastellorizon at the southern extreme to Agathonisi in the north.

Dodecanese Revisited

2010-05-18T08:19:00.001Z

Sad to leave Finike, our excellent winter base, we motored in light headwinds to the protected anchorage at Ucagis Limani, one of our favourites from last year. A flying fish danced in the air just as we left the marina breakwater as if to wish us well for the season ahead. Bella seems as if she had been loosed from her chains and was happy swinging at anchor and we were excited to be at sea again looking forward to adventures new. From Ucagis to the Greek island outpost of Kastellorizon, one of the special places we have visited during our Mediterranean cruise.

After this nostalgic indulgence we were ready to explore pastures new, the first being Rhodes. We were advised that finding a berth at Rhodes Mandraki harbour is a problem even at this time of year. We therefore arranged to reserve a berth for two nights through an Agent, A1 Yacht Trade Consortium, albeit at a fee of 150€! The fact that we were shown directly to a private berth on arrival while other yachts were scrambling for the limited or nonexistent public berths convinced us that the cost of an Agent was worthwhile as did the fact that he successfully negotiated customs and port police clearance where there were self inflicted problems in that, having not cleared into Greece at Kastellorizon, we were deemed to have come directly from Turkey. We even faced the threat of a fine for misstating the facts! Left to our own devices with the authorities doubtlessly we would not have fared as well.

Rhodes, the capital of the Dodecanese archipelago, has been an important centre since the 5^th century BC and was a vital part of the Roman and Byzantine empires before occupation by the Knights of St John from 1306 to 1522.

The Old City which, being the stronghold of the Knights of St John, is reminiscent of Malta, Bodrum, Kos and other places that the Knights conquered and ruled with a rod of iron and which we have visited albeit with a very much less warlike intention.

The Knights citadel built in 1309, surrounded by 4Km of massive defensive walls, is dominated by the Palace of the Grand Masters with its magnificent castellated and crenulated horseshoe shaped towers, fine marble tiled central courtyard and elegant chambers.

The Inns of the Tongues which were occupied by the various nationalities of the Order of St John line the Street of Knights which runs from the palace to the harbour. The Inns have coats of arms carved in stone within their austere facades. It was in this street that the Knights would muster at times of attack.

The Old City is divided into the Collachium, the Knights quarter containing the Palace and the Inns and the Bourg which housed the remaining population including Jews and Turks as well as Greeks.

The city is has been superbly preserved and expertly reconstructed where necessary and so has an extremely close resemblance to that occupied by the Knights in medieval times. It is worthy of its World Heritage Site status. We were glad not to have missed the visit despite the problems.

We spent a day or two relaxing in the beautiful anchorage of Panormittis on Symi Island. Our peace was broken only by peacocks squalling like tomcats in stark contrast to the kids calling sweetly if soulfully for their mothers. Strong winds arrived during the day with 26°C and brilliant sunshine and Miggy had her first swim of the season in beautiful clear water. In the evening and into the night, just like the last time we were here, the wind rose to 40 knots. Yachts were dragging all over the place but not, thankfully, to affect us. We held firm as a rock.
We were pleased to be joined by Peter and Val on 'Noisette' in Panormittis and to sail in company with them on the next stage of our travels to the Dodecanese islands of Tilos and Nisyros.

A light to moderate W/NW wind gave us good sailing for roughly half the passage to Tilos Island and sailing into the bay was delightful both in terms of being under canvas and the scenery. The tiny harbour of Livadhiou is sheltered except from the southeast and is equipped with electricity and water. The fee for mooring is around 14€ per day. The winter compliment of about ten yachts increases to around forty during the summer. We have seen a photograph of the mêlée at this time where you can walk from one side to the other without wetting your feet!

Tilos is fertile and the lush valley in the interior comprises small farms growing varied crops from Almonds to Tobacco. Its hills are scattered with chapels and ruins of Crusader castles, remnants of the rule of the Knights of St John from 1309 to 1522.

The birth and domicile on the Island of the 4^th century BC poet Erinna of 'Distaff' fame has left a legacy of poetry and music on the Island.

Nisyros Island is almost conical in shape and is mostly mountainous consisting of volcanic rock formations and outcrops of stone produced by periodic eruptions.

Greek myth has it that Nisyros was formed when, at the conclusion of the battle of gods and giants, Poseidon, god of the sea, pursued and caught up with the giant Polybotes, broke off a lump of Kos Island with his trident and hurled it at him. Lying under Poseidon's missile, the present day island of Nisyros, he sometimes sighs and groans thus explaining the phenomenon of the volcano.

More likely but less fun is the fact that Nisyros lies on the same Aegean volcanic fault line as Santorini, Poros and Milos and that there was a massive eruption some 24,000 years ago. Eruptions over the years, the latest in 1873, have left a caldera with a number of craters still exhibiting boiling mud pots and gas vents surrounded with pure sulphur crystals and a stench of rotten eggs!

The geomorphology and tectonic structure of the Island has led to the formation of underground hot springs known for their medicinal properties as far back as Hippocrates. Near Pali lies the now abandoned Hydropathic Institute, a massive complex of buildings, showing the popularity of this therapy in bygone days.

On the rim of the crater lie the pretty villages of Emporeios and Nikia, where we lunched, with their blue shuttered whitewashed houses and narrow stone streets.
Perhaps the most poignant of the sights of Nisyros is the tiny derelict village of Avlaki once the principal port of the Island. In bygone days ships unloaded their cargo at this tiny harbour for onward transport by donkey along a steep and tortuous trail to Emporeios. Then in the thirties roads were built and the more sheltered town and port of Mandraki took over the role of Avlaki and Emporeios. Such is progress.

The attractive fishing village of Pali where we berthed has little other than a baker, a church, and three Tavernas and is delightfully peaceful. The former fishing harbour has been reformed with the entrance facing east as protection from the Meltemi wind. It has been dredged throughout to about 4m and water and electricity are available at all berths. We paid just 5€ every other day for our electricity. It is a comparatively large safe haven for roughly thirty yachts.

It is surprising that small islands such as Nisyros and Tilos are able to make such provision for yachtsmen whereas construction of the Marina in mighty Rhodes, where the need is critical, has been static for years.

A fast sail north to Kos puts us within easy reach of the Turkish Gulluk Korfezi where we look forward immensely to Jane and John, Miggy's sister and her husband, joining us for a week.

Holiday in the Isles of Scilly

2010-04-24T15:36:00.000Z

Had we arrived at Penzance, Cornwall 12,000 years earlier we would have been able to walk or perhaps ride a donkey to the Scilly Islands. As it is the good ship Scillonian 111 ferried us the 30 miles ESE across the Western Approaches to the British Isles. By 4000BC Scilly had become the single island of Ennor as sea levels rose by 75 metres as the ice cap retreated north toward the Pole. In the Pubs on the mainland old Cornish fishermen still recount stories of how on a calm day with a still sea you can hear the mournful toll of bells moved by the tide in the steeples of 140 graceful churches of the land of Lyonnesse now lost under the waves. It was not until around 1000AD that the 50 Scilly Islands as we now know them began to arise from the sinking Isle of Ennor. Of these only St Marys, Tresco, St Agnes, St Martins and Bryher are now inhabited.

Archaeology tells us that the first humans to reach Scilly were the Mesolithic people (8000BC – 4000BC) who moved north from the Mediterranean after the end of the ice age probably following herds of migrating animals as the ice retreated. They were followed by the Neolithic people (4000BC – 2500BC) who shared a common culture with peoples from the Atlantic seaboard from Spain, Brittany, Cornwall, Wales and Ireland. Widespread cultivation of the land, village settlements of small round houses or hut circles occurred during the Bronze Age (2500BC - 700BC). It is evidence of the foundations of these structures in the shallow waters between the existing islands that may have fuelled the fishermen's tales of the lost land of Lyonnesse. The Iron Age (700BC – 400AD) brought more sophisticated civilisation to the Scillies and in its later period when Rome ruled Britain the Celtic status quo and Iron Age culture continued to develop unhindered although there appears to have been frequent contact with Roman trading vessels. The fall of the Roman Empire in Britain heralded a decline in trade and commerce and the Christianity which had spread from Rome was replaced by the altogether different Christian tradition of the Celts from Wales and Ireland. Island life declined dramatically with the gradual rise in sea levels to the extent that around 1000AD the population had diminished to a mere few hundred.

Despite Edward 111 granting the islands to the Black Prince, the first Duke of Cornwall, the islands sank into obscurity for the next 500 years plagued as it was by insecurity and the loss of agricultural land to the rising sea. From Tudor times onward the Scillonians took advantage of the Scilly's strategic position on the newly established commercial shipping routes to North America and Africa by engaging in piracy. Elizabeth 1 ignored this as long as it was to the detriment of the French and Dutch but ultimately the Spanish Armada highlighted the vulnerability of the Islands to attack and in 1593 Elizabeth started to build defences including the Star Castle on St Marys. The staunchly Royalist islanders afforded Prince Charles shelter in the Star Castle during his flight from the Parliamentarians during the English Civil War and, after subjugation by parliament in 1648, reverted to their piratical past by attacking passing merchant ships. At the end of the Civil War Parliament set up defences on the Islands to deter foreign invasion but the Dutch declared war on Scilly; the peace treaty being signed only some 20 years ago!

The Napoleonic Wars disrupted the Scillonian's major industries of smuggling and fishing and by the beginning of the 19^th century and a series of poor harvests thereafter once again heralded the rapid decline of the Islands. I was not until 1831 that prosperity began to return with Augustus Smith leasing the Islands from the Duchy of Cornwall. He instigated proper education for the children and new agricultural practices and the coming of the railway to Penzance in the middle of the 19^th Century bought the first tourists to the Islands and allowed the establishment of a flourishing flower industry.

St Marys, where our ferry landed, is the largest of the Scilly Islands that emerged from the sea and is a halfway house between the mainland and the four 'off islands'. Some off islanders regard St Marys with similar disdain as they do the mainland. Cars and buses speed around the roads of the Island in stark contrast to travel in the off islands where tractors and golf buggies are preferred. The sheltered centre of the Island is mainly cultivated for flowers and in particular winter and early spring daffodils and narcissi which are sent to market in London. Vegetables and early potatoes are also widely cultivated. Prehistoric monuments abound on St Marys as a result of its position on ancient sea routes from the Atlantic seaboard stretching from Portugal and Spain in the south to Ireland and Scotland in the north. The best examples of these late Stone Age/early Bronze Age settlement can be found at Halangy Down.

St Agnes, the smallest of the inhabited islands that has its particular Celtic history and traditions. We had little time to explore although we walked from the sheltered and pretty harbour at Porth Conger through Higher Town passing the 1680 lighthouse, one of the first lighthouses built in Britain but now defunct, and beyond Lower Town for fine views over white sand beaches, Annet, the home of the puffins, the Western Rocks and The Bishop rock and its lighthouse.

The Western Rocks have been a graveyard for shipping for centuries. Hundreds of ships have been wrecked with the loss of thousands of lives. As late as the early 18^th century Navigators could plot their latitude, or position along a north/south line, fairly accurately by reference to the pole star but were unable to establish with any certainty at all their position on an east/west line; their longitude. It was the loss of over 2000 souls in one night alone when part of the British fleet foundered here in 1707 that prompted the Admiralty to set a prize for the first person to find a reliable way of establishing longitude, a prize won by John Harrison with his spring mechanism based chronometer.

The Bishops Rock lighthouse guards the western extent of the rocks. The first structure built with cast iron columns was finished in 1850 only to be washed away by a storm before it was commissioned. A solid tower of Cornish granite replaced it but vertical cracks appeared soon after construction showing that the structure was not equal to the force of the very high waves that battered it making it shake violently, knocking plates off the shelves. In April 1874 waves exceeding 40 metres broke clean over the structure washing away the lantern and flooding the lighthouse nearly drowning the keepers. In 1881 an outer stone structure was built around the existing tower increasing its height and strength. This exists to the present day.

St Martin's is the Scillies north eastern bulwark to the ravages of the North Atlantic and the landscape of the island reflects this with its uncultivated weather beaten north eastern side and fertile sundrenched western slopes running down to the dunes and white sand of the waterfront. The cultivated western side is covered with sheltered flower and vegetable fields and wild Agapanthus, Lily and Hottentot fig grow from every hedgerow and dry stone wall. The flowers harvested here are packed and flown to the mainland and further afield.

Wide eyed and whiskered grey seals pop their heads above the water lounge or with their pups on the beaches of the Eastern Islands just south of St Martin's. Gannets, gulls, shags, cormorants, shearwaters and guillemots fly from rock to water and back and a Peregrine falcon nests on a rock ledge.

Bryher Island can be somewhat bleak being subjected to the full fury of westerly Atlantic storms. The northern end is a plateau of high ground sparsely covered with dwarfed heather. Names such as Hell Bay and Badplace Hill reflect the fury of the storm waves that have travelled as much as 2000 to break clean over Shipman Head. The southern end of the Island is a little less foreboding being protected to some extent by the offlying Norrard rocks with names that conjure up the mystery of these islands such as Gweal and Illiswilgig. We limited our walk to the more cultivated central saddle of the island through The Town and around Timmy's Hill resting at the Hell Bay Hotel for a pot of tea on the terrace overlooking the idyllic sands of Great Par beach, Stinking Porth, Black Rocks and the mighty Atlantic Ocean.

Last but not least the beautiful Island of Tresco, the pearl in the oyster and the Island upon which we stayed in a well equipped and excellently furnished house on the beach with superb views over the water and rocks of Old Grimsby Sound and St Helens Pool to St Martins, Tean, Round Island and the Eastern Islands. This view ranks amongst the best that we have seen in all our travels.

Softly undulating sand dunes covered with marram grass, bell heather and ling and wild flowers just about to burst into a riot of spring beauty dominate the south of Tresco. The panoramas looking seaward across the shallow water, white sand beaches and banks and foreboding rocks are magnificent with St Marys and St Agnes Islands to the south, Bryher and Samson to the west and St Martins and the Eastern isles to the east.

The Great Pool is a haven for geese, swans, egret, curlew and duck and the beaches are alive with the cry of oystercatchers, curlew, dunlin and tern. Within the trees of Abbey Wood and gardens stands Tresco Abbey. Its origins lie in the 12^th century when Henry 1 granted all religious buildings of the northern Scillies to the Benedictine monks of Tavistock Abbey. The present Abbey is the home of the Dorrien–Smith family and descendants of Augustus Smith whose far sighted approach revitalised the depressed and poverty struck islands. The Abbey gardens created in 1834 by Augustus Smith house an extraordinary collection of plants from all over the world that thrive in the warmth and long hours of sunshine that bless the Scilly Islands. There are over 4000 specimens from countries as far away as Mexico, Japan, Australia, South Africa, South America and the Mediterranean including Cacti, Palms, Bamboo, Echium, Agapanthus, Aeonium and King Proteas. There are enchanting artefacts and sculptures including a stone Roman sacrificial altar and the evocative figureheads from wrecked ships that conjure up the Scillies dramatic seafaring past.

The landscape of the north of Tresco is distinctly different from that of the south with its windswept heather and gorse clad hills punctured with stark granite outcrops. Cromwell's Castle built in the mid 17^th century to protect Tresco Channel and New Grimsby harbour from attack by the Dutch. It replaced King Charles's Castle built on the hill above in the mid 16^th century captured by the Parliamentarians due in the main to the fact that it was poorly sited with the shot falling out of the cannons when angled downward toward forces attacking from sea level!

For the three decades that we have owned a yacht on the south coast of England we have endeavoured to reach the Scillies but have always turned left to Brittany or the Channel islands because of the prevailing head winds. We have sailed past the Islands whilst racing or delivering yachts but finally we have landed upon them, walked around them as expansively as time has allowed and have experienced the incredible forces and delights of nature. We feel a debt of gratitude toward Miggy's mother, Betsy, who by celebrating her 80th birthday on the Islands made this experience possible for us and fifteen others of her close family. We feel privileged to have stayed in these wonderful islands just 25 miles distant, but a world apart from, the English mainland.

Last of a Finike Winter

2010-03-01T16:03:00.000Z

We trust that our homecoming at the beginning of March will be greeted with the onset of spring and more settled and warmer weather than we have had here in Finike of late. The local townspeople tell us that they need the rain to bring on the tomatoes and citrus fruit but surely not in the amounts that have poured down upon us since the beginning of the New Year. Wind from the quadrant south to east even if it is blowing hard offshore but not inshore brings with it a significant swell that penetrates the marina giving an uncomfortable motion on Bella. Whilst conditions are not dangerous the movement makes the environment on board inconvenient and somewhat wearing. We do, however, have beautiful, warm, sunny days to compensate for all this.

Our Turkish visas expired during February thereby occasioning a trip from Kaş on the Turkish mainland by ferry to the tiny Greek island of Kastellorizon. It was great to revisit one of our favourite haunts in the Mediterranean made even finer by a superb pork steak for lunch!

To widen our cultural experience we witnessed Camel Wrestling in Demre! This activity is an ancient tradition with origins in the Middle East where nomadic tribes pitched their bulls against one another as a competitive sport. We believe that the contests may have also been used for the practical reason of finding the strongest bull to service the females thus ensuring a strong lineage of working camels. We have no authority to substantiate this however.

Camels used for wrestling in Turkey are of the Tülü variety, a cross breed that are bulkier and longer haired than the slender, long eye lashed cousins that we encountered in the Sahara desert. The camels are decked out in their finery with elaborate wooden saddles and richly embroidered blankets.

The annual contest held in the mating season attracts a huge high spirited but good humoured local crowd, also in their Sunday best, sat cross legged on the ground, standing or perched on their trucks around an unprotected arena. The atmosphere is of the occasion is enhanced by the market and food stalls that surround the field of battle.

The sight of camels wrestling one another would seem to promise some spectacular action but in reality these animals are gentle and prefer the art of persuasion above that of fierce combat and the wrestling is more akin to comedy than blood-sport.

Two bulls are led into the arena and a young cow is paraded around to get them excited as evidenced by streams of viscous milky saliva issuing from the bull's mouth and nostrils. Mostly the two bulls half-heartedly butt each other shoulder to shoulder and lean on the other until one of them gives in and runs away. This is the really exciting bit as the bull will often charge off towards the crowd, with the conquering bull in pursuit, and the spectators scramble hurriedly out of the way. The antics of spectators trying to avoid a thousand kilograms of camel running towards them can lead to pure comedy and the biggest crowd reaction. Miraculously there are few accidents to camel or human. Occasionally two bulls will get down to it and actually try to wrestle one another, feinting in here and there, eventually locking a fore-leg inside the leg of the opposition and leaning on him to topple him over in a dromedary's version of a wrestling fall and pin. Large bets are wagered by owners and spectators alike, though how you tell just which camel won can be difficult to determine; both bulls may run off simultaneously or merely refuse to get involved at all. We hear that the judges award points for style however and the winning camel's owner receives another blanket!

Bella's bottom has been sanded down, primed and painted with three coats of antifoul and her topsides polished and she looks as eager as we are to set off on this season's adventure. We intend to sail west and north along the Turkish coast as far as Ayvalik taking in the Greek islands of the northern Dodecanese and eastern Sporades on the way. We will cross the Aegean to the western Sporades, sail south down the Evvia gulf into the Saronic, transit the Corinth canal and spend the winter in the Ionian Islands.

For those of you who may winter in Finike marina in the future we can say without a shadow of a doubt that those in the yard who were involved in hauling us out of the water, propping us up and launching us were the most professional and careful that we have experienced during our sailing careers over the past 35 years. The hoist strops were tied together and were place exactly in line with the lifting marks on the hull. We were transported gently the few metres to our hard standing and 14 props, each measured and placed precisely symmetrically, were wedged to support us. In the UK we were lucky to get 7! For a euro each the yard will move the props so that the antifouling coats can be complete without leaving patches that have to be painted just before launching only to wash off as soon as the boat goes in the water. The yard even supplied a sturdy steel ladder and proper steel framed wheeled staging.

Our final visit of the winter was to Elmali, a market town 60 km from Finike up in the hills. At an elevation of about 1200m the temperature was 15°C than on the coast. Amongst the bland concrete buildings are scattered beautiful Ottoman houses and there is a covered market that, although smaller than Finike, is full of atmosphere like the town itself which is truly Turkish.

Miggy's artistic skills are coming on apace as can be seen from the watercolour below of a Turkish summer picnic.

We look forward now to seeing family and friends during our stay in the UK from the 5^th March until the 25^th April which will include a week in the Scilly Islands with Miggy's Mum and her close family to celebrate an important birthday.

More Finike Winter Jottings

2010-01-29T10:48:00.001Z

Forty people of thirteen different nationalities sat down to our traditional English Christmas dinner and enjoyed themselves without exception. Faik, the Komsu Garden restaurateur, his family and his chefs who had learnt so much during the trial run the week before, about which we wrote in the December blog entry, and had prepared so well both in the kitchen and in the dining room that Miggy had less than expected to do although she still had to ensure that the turkey, potatoes and vegetables were neither over or under cooked and make the gravy and the stuffing.

Modern Antalya, our regional capital, with its palm tree lined boulevards is one of Turkey's principle tourist resort and, being only a two hour and £8 return bus ride from Finike, is where we get our culture in the form of opera, ballet and orchestral concerts and where we can shop in superstores for products not readily available in Finike except, of course, pork for which we and most of our fellow liveaboards crave!

On the subject of shopping it is made easy in Turkey as shops tend to be grouped together by their trade or produce much like it has been for millennia in the 'Souks'.

Antalya has been continuously inhabited by the Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Seljuks and the Ottomans since its founding in 159BC by Attalos 11, a Greek king of Pergamum. It is the picturesque old town or Kaleiçi that holds the most interest with its narrow winding streets and wooden balconied houses provided one can shut one's eyes to the inevitable plethora of tourist souvenir shops touting their junk. The 13^th century fluted red brick minaret of the Yilvi Minare Mosque, previously adorned with turquoise tiles has become Antalya's symbol and the Karatay Medrese (theological college) from the same period displays fine Seljuk stone carvings on the portal and mihrap or prayer niche. Much of the old city fortifications still stand and the clock tower, once part of the city walls, marks the upper limit of the original city. A well preserved and renovated and beautifully decorated three arched gate with Corinthian columns was built into the city walls in 134AD in honour of the Emperor Hadrian. The cart tracks through the central arch have been exposed to view.

Despite our previous blog comment about 'old rocks' we still enjoy visiting ancient sites and to add to our collection we trampled around the ruins of the city of Termessos first settled by the Solymians in the first millennium BC. In fact they are the same Anatolian peoples that founded Sagalassos about which we wrote in October last year.

The city flourished in Hellenistic and Roman times and first appeared on history's stage when its formidable natural defences, being on a saddle of ground at 1100 metres between two cliffs, convinced Alexander the Great not to try to take the city in 333BC. Alexander was right; it is a long, steep exhausting climb to the city centre and we didn't even have hostile forces to dissuade us from success!

The buildings of Termessos are not as well preserved as many we have seen apart from the theatre with its fine views over Antalya Bay but the setting is magnificent. Termessos is included in the Güllük Dag National park where wild goats and deer and perhaps the only remaining Anatolian lynx roam.

Winter activities continue with regular Sunday barbeques, quiz nights and weekly talks on practical or historical matters. Recently an Historian gave a talk on the civilisations in the Eastern Mediterranean over the last 5000 years. At the Art Club Miggy has ventured quite successfully methinks into portraiture.

All this carries on in weather that has become quite wet and colder as the snow line lowers on the mountains to the north of us. It is a beautiful scene however and we do still have the warm sunny days in between.

A Finike Winter

2009-12-22T17:56:00.002Z

Autumn was predominantly sunny with temperatures in the mid twenties or higher but Miggy giving up swimming on the 1^st of December marked the onset of the Finike winter. Although we still have glorious sunny days with temperatures in the low twenties, colder periods with rain and high winds are becoming more common. During a recent spell the wind blew 70 knots and violent thunderstorms heralded ice the size of golf balls falling from on high. The aftermath of the storms filled the water in the marina with tree trunks, branches and vegetation washed from the hillsides by the swollen rivers.

In the town trees were felled by the tempestuous conditions and parks, pavements and roads were littered with fallen leaves and debris. The Turkish people take this in their stride and within hours large gangs of council workers, mainly ladies, had restored the town to its usual clean and orderly state. Similarly in the marina a huge effort over three days by pitchfork wielding marineros transformed the apparently muddy field in which our yachts were floating back into the clear Mediterranean waters that we expect.

The gusto with which these simple tasks were carried out is a mark of the conscientiousness of these delightful and hospitable people and of the efficiency and effectiveness of their institutions and services; the town council even have a town crier, albeit by way of a tannoy system, who broadcasts local interest information throughout Finike. The towns, villages and countryside of and the waters surrounding this vast state are without doubt the cleanest that we have encountered during our travels.

There is an active social programme for those of many nationalities; Brits, Australians, New Zealanders, French, Dutch, Swedes, Danes, Finns, Austrians and Germans; wintering aboard thirty or so yachts. As well as the quiz nights, the 'come rain or shine' Sunday BBQs, an Art Club (Miggy's pastel pictures are superb), keep fit sessions and walks in the surrounding countryside there is some culture with regular trips to Antalya, about two hours away, to watch Opera, Ballet and Orchestral concerts. We have seen the Antalya State Opera performing 'Tosca' and 'Rigoletto' and the Antalya State Symphony Orchestra playing some Sibelius and Mendelssohn all to an extremely high standard.

Bearing in mind that the majority of the Christian world celebrate Christmas Eve we will have an 'International Finger Buffet' that evening where people will bring their traditional national dishes and we will sing carols from the many nations represented accompanied by organ complete with professional organist. On Christmas Day we will be forty people of many nationalities sitting down to a traditional English Christmas dinner in a Turkish restaurant cooked by Turkish chefs with a little help from Miggy. We have had a rehearsal where the 10Kg free range turkey such as we might have had in the UK many years ago was cooked to perfection in the uncontrollable temperatures of the bread/pizza oven. Roast potatoes, brussel sprouts, carrots (parsnips being unavailable), leeks, stuffing and perfect gravy made from the juices of the bird were excellently prepared. We fed a dozen of the

Restaurateurs family who were somewhat bemused, but as always politefully complimentary, having never witnessed such a style of cooking before.

The marina management and staff are very capable, friendly and helpful. The facilities are very good with excellent shower rooms a small supermarket and chandler, a clubroom for social functions and, something we have never encountered before, a pool specifically for washing and drying sails. The marina is just ten minutes walk from the town centre which is one of the reasons for choosing Finike.

In ancient times the Finike was known as Phoenicus and was noted for the export of cedar of Lebanon from the surrounding mountains for building the Ottoman fleet. The ancient town is buried under silt and the modern town itself has little of merit architecturally except a few remaining but generally dilapidated Ottoman houses of the old village. It is a market town with a population of 12,000 that prospers through the export of citrus fruit from the blanket of orchards that covers the valley as well as other agricultural produce. The orange has become the symbol of the town. The centre has all that we need with a vast Saturday market, principally selling fruit and vegetables, spreading through street after street, a good supermarket, two excellent butchers and a superb baker. Lokantas (cheap local restaurants) are plentiful and the hamam, as well as cleansing, soothes the aches and pains of an ageing body (Neal's that is)!

Finike sits in a fertile valley located at the foot of the Gülmez Dağlari, a long spur of the Taurus Mountains, the peaks of which, including Mount Olympos to the east, rise to over 3000 metres. As well as the stunning scenery of the hinterland the remains of ancient Lycian, Hellenistic and Roman cities are numerous. We wrote about a few of them in our previous blog and will no doubt write about others as we visit them although we are getting somewhat blasé about these piles of old rocks!

There is however one such city that we should mention and that is the 5^th century BC Lycian and later Roman city of Myra. There is little left to see now after the ravages of earthquake and flood but the Lycian rock tombs with their exquisite carvings are the finest that we have seen and the Roman theatre is magnificent. This is another city which St Paul visited during his travels but its greatest attraction at this time of year is that it it is the home of the Church of St Nicholas.

St. Nicholas was born in Patara, 80Km or so from Finike, around 300, became bishop of Myra, and died around 350. Only these basic details are known to history, but legends abound concerning the life of the saint. A much-embellished hagiography was written by in the 10th century. St. Nicholas is said to have been born of wealthy parents and to have travelled to the Holy Land in his youth. He was tortured and imprisoned during the persecutions of Diocletian, and released when Constantine ordered official toleration of Christians.

Many of the legends of St. Nicholas involve him helping young people and the poor. It is said that he saved from a life of sin the three daughters of a poor merchant who were about to be forced into prostitution since they had no marriage dowries by dropping three bags of gold into the merchant's chimney thereby enabling them to wed.

After his death, Nicholas became the patron saint of sailors and seafarers, and many pilgrims came to visit his tomb. Over the centuries, the legends and great popularity of St. Nicholas of Myra led to the Christmastime figure of the bearded man who secretly brings toys to children. He is still known as St. Nick in most of Europe bringing his gifts not on Christmas Day but on December 6^th. In America and, of course, the UK he came to be known as Santa Claus.

The saint was buried in his church at Myra, or Demre as the modern town is now named, a mere 30Km from Finike. Damaged by earthquakes and Arabs the church structure that largely survives today is of the 8th century. In 1087, a group of Italian merchants raided the church, broke open the saint's sarcophagus and took the relics to Bari, Italy, where they were placed in a shrine in the cathedral. The empty tomb of St. Nicholas can be seen in the south aisle of his church in Myra.

So here we are at Christmas with snow on the mountains and Santa Claus so close.

MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Annual Cruising Roundup

2009-11-29T06:59:00.016Z

Our season has been less frantic than last year having covered a mere 950 miles at an average speed of just under 5 knots. This brings to 6880 the total sea miles covered since we left Lymington in April 2006. Once again the proportion of miles truly sailed was low at 20% reflecting the amount of calms and light winds encountered. On the other hand we were on passage for just 51 days out of the 149 day cruising season which reflects, apart from days spent going nowhere in beautiful anchorages, the amount of time we spent sheltering from the dreaded Meltemi wind in the Aegean Sea.

Notwithstanding the relatively short distance we have journeyed this season we have enjoyed visiting diverse locations including the Ionian Islands off Greek's west coast, the Gulf of Corinth and its canal, Islands in the Aegean Cyclades, some of the Dodecanese archipelago and the Turkish Carian and Lycian coasts.
During April and May vibrant wild spring flowers, orchids included, in myriad variety swathed the hillsides and valleys of the Ionian islands of Lefkas, Odysseus's Ithaca and Cephalonia and the shores and islands, tiny Trizonia in particular, of the Gulf of Corinth. Snow capped mountains and soaring eagles and hawks were the perfect backdrop to the carpet of colour beneath.
As if the mighty but somewhat dilapidated Corinth Canal is an impenetrable barrier, the barren and windswept Cyclades Islands to the east with their typically 'white' villages are in stark contrast to the lush vegetation and colour to the west. The idyllic anchorages of Paros, Kithnos and Levitha and the bustling, yet laid back, town quays such as that at Amorgos are etched in our memories whereas the summer wind, the Meltemi, which may blow for days on end, is etched into our skin!
Of the few islands we have visited in the Dodecanese archipelago so far we were not impressed with Kalimnos or the resort ridden Kos but we adored Symi and believe the small and southernmost island of Greece, Kastellorizon (or Meis) to be one of the most wonderful places into which we have sailed since we left the UK.The much indented shoreline and the pine forested slopes that fringe the water's edge of the superfluity of bays and inlets along the Turkish Carian and Lycian coasts make for the perfect cruising ground. We recall with affection the beautiful anchorages of the southern shores of the Gokova and Hisaronu Gulfs north of Marmaris, the bays of the Skopea Limani in the Fethiye Gulf and those in the Kekova area. Rickety wooden restaurant pontoons come and go depending on their legality or perhaps the whim of local dignitaries can on occasions dominate otherwise lovely anchorages. Town quays vary from those not frequented by Gulets to the resort centres dominated by these craft.
A word about gulets or gulettes, whichever spelling takes your fancy, and their drivers; these vessels are large ships evolved from traditional cargo or fishing vessels. They are built primarily in the vicinity of Istanbul, Bodrum and Marmaris and the Black Sea with cedar frames, pine planking and mahogany superstructure. They are ketch or schooner rigged ships and, although for some the wooden spars are for show alone, most carry sails. Depending on their size, and some are massive, they carry anywhere between eight and twenty people on the 'Blue Voyage' along the coasts of Turkey. Gulets at the top of the market are beautifully maintained craft offering five star service, accommodation and food. Those at the other end of the market do not and there are various levels in between! Gulets are prolific in the extreme and it is fortunate for us yachties that there are so many anchorages along the coast that not all are taken up with the things. As it is there is very little room for yachts on town quays, the space being taken mainly by gulets and day tripper boats. Gulet drivers are, on the whole, skilful at manoeuvring their craft at close quarters. Whilst the majority of gulet captains seem courteous and sensible there is a minority who are belligerent, single minded and uncompromising.
It is always our intention to travel overland and experience the sights and culture of the countries in which we find ourselves. This year has been no exception and before Christmas 2008 we travelled through North West Greece with its stunning Pindos mountain range and Meteora where 10^th to 14^th century monasteries perch precariously on top of sandstone pinnacles. In the Peloponnese we trod where others had trod millennia ago in the ancient cities of Corinth, Mycenae, Olympia and Epidaurus with its outstanding theatre. We visited, amongst other remarkable places, Nafplio, the home of the first parliament of liberated Greece and the Mani with its fortified tower houses vacated by feuding families in a mass exodus to America in the early 20^th century. We rode on the Diakofto rack and pinion railway snaking its way upward, sometimes very steeply, through the Vouraika Gorge.

Delphi, the home of Apollo some three thousand years ago, lies on the foothills of Mount Parnassus to the north west of Corinth and the city of Delos, the religious and political centre of the world at about the same time, stands on a tiny Cycladic island in the Aegean Sea.

Lately our Anatolian Adventure took us to the Lake District, Konya the home of the Whirling Dervishes, the bleak Anatolian Steppe, Cappadocia with its underground cities, early Christian rock churches and 'fairy chimneys' and a few of the numerous ancient sites in the area including Antiocheia-in-Pisidia and Perge with their association with St Paul, Aspendos with its magnificent theatre and the harbour cities of Side and Phaselis.

It is a delight to meet cruising folk of like mind, many of whom have become good friends. We have encountered yachts from 42 different nations this year as far apart as Yemen, Iceland and Vanuatu, many having come through the Red Sea.
The weather has been superb, so good in fact that we found it necessary to fly back to the UK to escape the extreme heat and humidity in late July and August. Miggy started swimming in the Cyclades on the 10^th of May and is still taking to the sea every day here in Finike. Even Neal took to the briny in the heat of September days. Fresh water springs abound in the anchorages along the Turkish coast creating refreshing cool patches within the maximum 28°C sea water. The water is doubly inviting in Turkey being clean and free from the pollution we have experienced in other parts of the Mediterranean; Tunisia and Greece in particular.
Food and eating are one of life's supreme pleasures. Turkey is grows such a variety and quantity of food as to be self sufficient. Fresh fruit and vegetables flourish in the outdoor markets and the excellent grazing on the Anatolian Plain produces top quality meat, except of course pork, and dairy produce. The cuisine does not consist entirely of kebab dishes but is as varied as the Persian, Ottoman and European influences have dictated. Mezes, or appetising starters, are a delight and the 'flat' bread is such a joy as be lucky to survive intact on the walk back from the Baker to the boat! Food, with the exception of fish, is not expensive and eating out is cheap provided one eats in one of the plentiful Lokantas where the locals eat rather than the posh restaurants.This has been an exciting, varied and thoroughly agreeable year which we are continuing to enjoy during our winter break here in Finike. More of that and of our plans for the forthcoming year later in these pages.

An Anatolian Adventure - Episode 3

2009-11-18T12:28:00.014Z

Before setting off on the final part of our journey and as we took early morning tea on our balcony overlooking Goreme the sight of hot air balloons drifting this way and that amongst the fairy chimneys and high in the sky was wonderful conclusion to our time in this fairy tale world.

From Cappadocia we headed south on the road to Tarsus. That sounds biblical and it may be so as Tarsus was St Paul's birthplace. Not that it has anything to do with the bible but Tarsus was also where Anthony and Cleopatra first met.

At the southern extremity of the Cappadocia region lays Mustafapasa, the former Greek village of Sinasos. Unlike other ruined Greek villages we have visited, such as Kayakoy near Fethiye, that were the subject of the Population Exchange in the early twenties, the place is remarkably well preserved and the houses have a wealth of carved stonework, fine balconies, wall paintings and reminders of the former inhabitant's lives.

Our final glimpse of fairy chimneys, rock churches and pigeon coops cut into the rock face; the guano is and has been used as fertilizer for centuries; was in the quiet and undisturbed Soganli valley, two beautiful deep gorges running at right angles to one another.
From the Anatolian Steppe to the Taurus Mountains the rich soil in fecund valleys amongst rolling hills supports a vast array of produce including potatoes, giant cabbage, plums and apples. The Anatolian region must be one of Turkey's agricultural powerhouses such is the extent and variety of vegetables, grain, sugar beet and fruit grown.

The Taurus Mountain range has been our backdrop whilst sailing east from the Bodrum area and in fact dominates the entire Mediterranean coast to Turkey's border with Syria. Once again we find ourselves transiting its pine slopes, rocky summits and deep gorges this time retracing the route of Alexander the Great through the Cicilian Gates, a narrow pass in a seemingly bottomless gorge carved out by the River Tarsus. Eagles sore overhead and partridges scurry through the undergrowth.

As we descend to the Cukurova coastal plain the temperature rises 10°C and we start to see olive groves again and, surprisingly, cotton fields. The industrial city of Mersin has little to offer neither does Tarsus albeit that a covered well named after St Paul remains a place of pilgrimage. We did have a superb lunch at a Lokanta attached to a petrol filling station in odd surroundings crammed between the main road and the railway track and shunting yard.

The apartment blocks of the Mersin conurbation give way to holiday resorts with golden sand beaches and a multitude of hotels. At Kizkalesi we stayed in a suite overlooking the sea at the fine Kilikya Hotel on the beach at the princely sum of £50 for dinner, room and breakfast. Miggy swam in the sea and dinner and breakfast were served on the swimming pool terrace. Apart from its fine beaches and seafood restaurants, Kizkalesi's main landmarks are two 12^th century castles, one of which is on an island just offshore. Legend has it that an Armenian King banished his daughter into the island castle to protect her from a prophesied lethal snakebite. The snake turned up anyway hidden in a basket of fruit sent by a well meaning servant and did as predicted.
North of Silifke, another coastal town through which St Paul passed, at Uzuncaburc deep within the foothills of the Taurus Mountains lie the remains of the Roman city of Diocaesarea, or Olba as it was known to the Greeks, the centrepieces of which are the Roman temple of Zeus with its thirty massive standing Corinthian columns and the 23 metre high 3^rd century BC Hellenistic 'High Tower'. One of the joys of visiting ancient sites in Turkey is the lack of fencing and the freedom to walk on the ruins albeit that, in the long term, this may prejudice their preservation. In this place the present day villagers live within the site and have ancient ruins in their gardens. An old lady sold us a Roman gold coin and ring for about £2! We can't get the authenticity of these objects verified as we would probably be locked up for desecrating the site.
From Silifke to Gazipasa cliffs fall steeply to the sea and the road is tortuous and, in places, quite hair raising with a sheer drop of a hundred metres into the torrid waters below. Bananas grow in the few valleys that intersperse the cliffs as they do in great quantity in the environs of city Alanya, a vast holiday resort and its associated tat where we stayed the night in a hotel (£30 for dinner, room and breakfast) on Cleopatra's beach overlooking the impressive castle and citadel on the promontory called the 'beautiful mountain' that was the entire medieval and Ottoman town.

The ruins of ancient cities abound on this Mediterranean coast as they do throughout Turkey and so we had to be discerning about which to visit in the limited time available before our return to Finike.
The remains of the harbour moles built in antiquity at Side, meaning pomegranate, are still visible and the harbour is still in use today, not by the pirates who profited from slave trading here in the 2^nd century BC but by gulets, tripper boats and yachts. The town was sacked by the Arabs in the 7^th century AD but settled by Turks from Crete during the Population Exchange Programme in the early twenties. The modern resort town encompasses the port and its buildings have been erected along streets previously used by the early Greek, Roman and Byzantine inhabitants and in between the ruins of the ancient, mostly Roman, monuments of which the theatre, the main city gates and nymphaeum, the Agora, the Vespasian Monument with its exquisitely carved pediment and the temple of Apollo are the most notable. To see these 2500 year old monuments intermingled amongst the relatively modern souvenir shops, restaurants and hotels is an anomaly.
Built in the 1^st century AD the 15,000 seat Roman theatre at Aspendos is the best preserved in Turkey and, perhaps, throughout the Roman Empire. Its present good state of repair and completeness is due to its use by the Seljuk Turks as a medieval caravanserai, or lodging place for merchants on their travels, and place of entertainment. Ataturk decreed in 1930 that the theatre be restored and used again and so it is to the present day.A settlement from the time of the Bronze Age, Perge flourished during the Hellenistic period in the 3^rd to 2^nd centuries BC, the Roman period in the 2^nd to 3^rd centuries AD and the Christian period in the 5^th to 6^th centuries AD when many churches were built. Somewhat earlier than this it is known that St Paul; yes him again; sailed from Paphos on Cyprus to Perge during his first missionary journey. The ruins include the Hellenistic entrance with its massive towers, the main Roman marble street complete with cart tracks built as a dual carriageway with a wide rainwater gully as the central reservation for coolness, the Agora, a large theatre and a well preserved 12,000 seat stadium, the largest in Asia Minor. Between the arches of this stadium the ancients built shops and taverns although every third arch was kept as an entrance to the arena.

Three natural harbours around a long pine tree shaded promontory make the Lycian then Greek and later Roman city of Phaselis a most attractive ancient site. Today's visitors can take a swim or anchor their yacht where Greek and Roman ships loaded construction timber and farm produce for Alexandria over 2000 years ago. Olive trees and shrubs have overgrown the quays and jetties and the marble streets but the ruins of some monuments survive including a massive Roman aqueduct and three Agoras and a small Greek theatre.

Turkey, lying between Europe, Asia and the Middle East, is a vast country of some 815,000 sq km with a population of over 70 million. Bounded by the Black Sea to the north, the Aegean to the west and the Mediterranean to the south its coastline runs to 8330 km. Who is aware for instance that 5,200m Mount Ararat, said to be the resting place of Noah's Ark, is on Turkish soil? It is although this is disputed by Armenia, Turkey's nearby neighbour. During our seven day trip covering just 2,300 km we have seen a miniscule part of this diverse and beautiful land. We have trodden in the footsteps of the ancients, travelled along the routes of the latter-day kings, saints, conquerors and merchants through the high fertile valleys, the bleak Anatolian Steppe and the Taurus Mountains. We have looked down on the placid waters of the Lake District and explored and ballooned over unique and fairy tale natural landscapes. We have experienced the underground refuges and churches of those oppressed from around 3000BC until the period of the early Christians and we have had a taste of the life and customs of the Turkish people in the countryside far from the tourist havens along the coast. This has been a remarkable and fascinating trip and one that we have enjoyed immensely and will remember forever.

An Anatolian Adventure - Episode 2

2009-11-08T13:39:00.015Z

The foundation to the natural wonder of Cappadocia was laid some 30 million years ago when a series of now extinct volcanoes, the largest of which is Mount Erciyes, erupted spewing lava and volcanic ash over the region which, as it solidified, turned into a soft stone of pastel shades of red, green and yellow.

Tuff as it is known is easily eroded by the elements and over the millenia the wind and rain have formed slender rock pinnacles known as 'fairy chimneys' which contribute to a unique eerie, yet magnificent, landscape that could be from a world other than Earth. Some of these 'chimneys' have the remains of the basalt lava layer perched on top of them presenting a somewhat suggestive image!

Our drive to Urgup and through the Derwent valley and back to Goreme gave us fine views of these intriguing rock formations and an exhausting climb to the top of the castle at Uchisar was rewarded by a wonderful panorama over the entire but relitively small; just 300 sq km; Cappadocia area.Our most exhilarating view of Cappadocia was from a hot air balloon as the sun rose. The one and three quarter hour flight took us from a few feet above ground level, where we chased a fox in the undergrowth, with the skilled pilot dodging between the extraordinary rock formations to the dizzy height of 1500 feet for a birdseye view of the region.At the gasps of the passengers; there were twelve of us on board; the pilot assured us that we were not to worry as the balloon was of British manufacture! After we landed we were given a glass of champagne and a certificate to mark our adventure and a highlight of our trip.Man added to the work of nature from the 15th century BC Hittite era to the 11th century AD, the softness of the Tuff allowing it to be easily carved out and excavated to form subterranean cities and troglodyte villages. There are reckoned to be 200 underground cities in the region, such as that we visited at Kaymakli, comprising living quarters, kitchens, wineries, churches, stores, stables and combined ventilation shafts and wells. Each housed between 8000 and 15000 people and had as many as eight storeys below ground. Incredibly cities were linked with escape tunnels up to 10 km long.
Christians fled to Cappadocia to escape persecution as early as the 4th century and by the 9th to 11th centuries had built an estimated 3000 churches underground and into the rock faces. The Goreme Open Air museum has the greatest concentration of churches and monasteries hewn out of the rock, most of them completed from the 9th century onward.Many have fine Byzantine frescoes depicting Biblical scenes. The Karanlik or Dark church has a fresco of Jesus Christ within its dome reputed to be a copy of a mosaic at St John's church at Ephesus with the inscription 'Dominator of the world and earth'. Some 800 years later a similar mosaic of Allah appeared with the same inscription.Our final destination in this remarkable region was the Ilhara Valley, a gorge 10 km long by just 80 m wide. There were rock churches here but by this time we were rockchurched out so we stopped at the village of Belisirma at a resturant table straddling the clear babbling waters of the Melindiz River with a cold beer in our hands; Heaven!

This is a bewitching yet tremendously beautiful land. It is also 'the land of beautiful horses', the meaning of Cappadocia in ancient Persian.

An Anatolian Adventure – Episode 1

2009-10-31T12:13:00.009Z

We set off on our travels again to explore a tiny part of this massive country including the Lake District, Konya, Cappadocia and the Eastern coast of the Mediterrean a trip of 2300 Km in 7 days. In this Episode, one of three, we explore two ancient cities, the Lakes and Konya.

Soon after leaving Finike we found ourselves climbing through the pine forests of the foothills of the Tarsus Mountains into fertile valleys at about 1200 metres with rugged mountain peaks of around 2000 and 3000 metres all around us. Wildlife in the form of cows, goats, sheep, red squirrels and storks, eagles, herons and ducks abounded as did root vegetables, grapevines and a myriad variety of fruit: amongst others pomegranates, apples, pears, plums, peaches, melons and citrus fruits.

Taking Cay (Tea) at Kizilkaya we were surrounded by local men playing dominoes and looking at us in our shorts quite quizzically and no wonder as it is a lot colder up here than on the coast. As a matter of fact the locals will be expecting snow soon.
A short detour took us to the remains of the city of Sagalossos which reached the zenith of its prosperity in Imperial Roman Times. 'Cultural superstition' whereby settlements continue to be inhabited and expand throughout 'classical' antiquity thus obliterating older remains masks all but a very few of the remains of former inhabitation of the area from Pre Neolithic times (9000BC) through the Hittite, Luwian (2000-1500BC) and Hellenistic (300BC) dynasties to its incorporation into the Roman Empire. The remains of the Agoras (market squares and meeting places), Nymphaeum (ornate strructure housing fountains), Library and stone paved roads complete with cart tracks are quite well preserved.

After a cheap and cheery doner kebab lunch in Aglasun onward through ski country; Davras Ski Centre is nearby, with the hillsides planted with Christmas trees by the million and in the valleys tall slender poplars reminiscent of Italy, to the heart of the vast Lake District of some 5000 square kilometres and to our destination for the night, Egirdir, on the southern shore of the lake of the same name. The mountains surrounding the lake rise to around 3000 metres present a stunning backdrop to the still waters of the lake ever changing colour from Turquoise to pastel green and all shades between. The small resort town of Egirdir has little to offer in itself but the place is clearly a popular place for walkers and wildlife enthusiasts and for exploring the S Paul's Trail.
The smell of apple pervades the air as we travel through extensive orchards and stocks of the fruit piled by the roadside. Maize, melon, cabbage and corn also flourish among the poplar trees and tiled dwellings with their hanging strings of red chillies. Some 70 kms to the north of Egirdir close to the town of Yalvac, in which we got thoroughly lost, is situated Antiocheia-in-Pisida and the synagogue , replaced in the 3rd and 4th centuries with churches, where St Paul first preached to the Gentiles in 46AD, now a place of Christian pilgrimage.

Local tourist literature has it that, and I quote: 'In Palestine, the place of its birth, the new Christian faith was unable to make much progress and its adherents headed in the direction of Asia Minor now Anatolia instead where Christianity began to spread and organise itself. Four cities, Antioch, Ephesus, Tarsus and Antiocheia-in-Pisidia were targeted for this. St Paul undertook tree important missions to propagate the new faith in Anatolia. Chosing Antiocheia as his centre, it was here he proclaimed the new religion to all who would listen. It was from Antiocheia that Christianity began to radiate all over the world. At the time the city had living side by side devotees of oriental mysteries, Jews, idolators and pagans. Ther was also a class of well-off people for whom monotheism had a strong appeal. This was the setting in which St Paul found himself when he arrived to preach the new religion. When he first arrived at a new city he would sit at a loom and weave tent cloth not just to support himself but also as a way of meeting people with whom he strove to get to know and understand. He wove a web of love and friendship as he sat at his loom.'
Scholars on these matters will know whether or not the above passage displays an element of local, if not regional, self interest but it is true to say however that, if the New Testament account is correct, Paul was here. Acts 13 tells us that he came from Paphos (Cyprus) by way of Perge on the Turkish Anatolian coast to Antiocheia-in-Pisidia and that on the Sabbath almost the whole city came together to hear him preach in the synagogue.

Leaving Antiocheia along the apple lined road boardering Lake Beysehir and passig three Hans (storage depots built circa 13th century for the benefit of merchants and caravans crossing Anatolia along the Roman-Byzantine road and to encourage trade) we plunged into the smog of Konya city.

Known throughout Turkey for its pious inhabitants and strong Islamic leanings this ancient city had little to offer us. In fact we felt the people were insular and oppressed, if not suppressed, as they went about their daily business unlike the majority of the Turkish people we have met who are uninhibited, happy, friendly and hospitable. The 1220 Alaeddin Mosque, although Konya's largest and Turkey's most holy, was unimposing with its minaret no taller or elaborate nor its domes more grand thanothers we have seen in the smallest towns. The Muezzin, the chap who chants (or nowadays switches on the prerecording) the call to prayer five times a day that blasts from the tannoy on the mosque's minaret was decidedly less tuneful than most!
Our sole intrest in this city, the former capital of Turkey, was to visit the historic centre of the Mevlevi sect of Sufic nystics better known to us as the Whirling Dervishes. Far from being rabid zealots the Dervishes practice a highly tolerant, undogmatic creed that prizes poetic beauty, love and generosity. The 13th century turquoise domed sanctuary houses the tomb of their founder Afghan born Mevlana Celaladdin Rumi in a compound that includes the Dervishes' cells, their library and the hall in which they performed their whirling dance, the sema, which symbolises the sharing of God's love among earthly beings. Rumi believed that music and dance represented a means to induce an ecstatic state of universal love and offered a way to liberate the individual from anxiety and pain of daily life. Sadly Ataturk all but banned the dance in 1927 allowing the Dervishes back into their city to dance the sema for just one week annually to commemorate Rumi's death. He transformed the compound into a museum housing Rumi's sarcophagus in a hall with walls adorned with gilded calligraphy, the Dervishes musical instraments and costumes, ancient illustrated Korans and a casket said to contain the Prophet Mohammed's beard.

The 150km drive across the flat, bleak Anatolian steppe where the dust from the ploughing of sugarbeet and grain merged with the anticyclonic gloom to create an artificial horizon just two to three kilometres distant took us to the limits of the Cappadocia region, the prime location of this adventure: but more of that in the next episode.

Lycian Coast between Fethiye and Finike

2009-09-29T09:04:00.010Z

Our forty mile voyage southeastward from Fethiye to Kalkan takes us past the Yedi Burunlar, or seven capes, where the foothills to the Taurus Mountains tumble steeply into the sea. This seven mile stretch of water can be notoriously rough in just moderate winds and was quite lumpy even in the light winds that prevailed for us.

The hills give way to the flat plain of the River Esen with its six mile long sandy beach with extensive dunes, the Taurus Mountains still towering in the distance to provide an outstanding backdrop. The colour of the water changed from its normal deep azure to glorious turquoise in a defined line where the flow from the river carries sand in suspension; a phenomenon that we have never encountered before.

At the eastern end of the beach lies the Lycian city of Patara which is known to have been in existence from the fifth century BC. Greek mythology has it that Apollo was born here as was Bishop Nicholas, famed for his unfailing generosity and the original Santa Claus, in actuality in the fourth century AD. Beatified as St Nicholas of Myra he became the patron saint of Seafarers, Brewers, Brides and Bakers. Now we understand the reason for the Sailor’s affinity with beer!
The predominantly Greek village of Kalkan was, as many others, devastated by the Turkish Greek Population Exchange in 1923. Since then the village has been permanently inhabited only since the eradication of malaria bearing mosquitoes in the 1950’s, the villagers preferring to shun the ruined houses and live in the fertile plain high above. The old ruined hillside village above the small harbour has been restored and is truly charming with its whitewashed stone houses with their shuttered windows and wooden balconies with brilliant bougainvillea cascading down to stone paved streets and alleyways below. One has to forgive the tourist nature of the place with its numerous restaurants and souvenir shops and one’s eyes should not stray to the hillsides above and surrounding the old village that are covered with hotels, holiday complexes and villas.
Further east Kas, once the ancient 7th century BC Lycian town of Antiphellos, is now a boisterous resort. The old quarter with its attractive balconied Greek houses (it was the Greek town of Andifli until the population exchange in 1923) which line the narrow stone streets and Lycian sarcophagi are dotted around. At the top of the street called the ‘long bazaar’ stands the double chambered ‘Lion Tomb’, a monumental stone sarcophagus adorned with exquisitely carved lion’s heads on its vaulted roof.
The small but extremely popular harbours of Kalkan and Kas boast shower, toilet and laundry facilities cost £16 per night inclusive of electricity and water. Kas probably has the most friendly and helpful harbour crew that we have encountered on our travels; Ismail or Smiley, the restaurateur, who delivers bread to the boat daily with no request for payment and the harbour master who is courteous and extremely considerate.
With a change of courtesy flag we are back in Europe in the Greek outpost of Megisti or, more popularly, Kastellorizon, a small island just a mile and a half from the Turkish coast. On entering the sheltered bay the panorama of the village set below the barren rocky hills is the most enchanting we have seen during our travels. Gracious neoclassical buildings painted white with contrasting pastel shades, brightly painted doors and wooden balconies amongst colourful bougainvillea and hibiscus line the waterfront. To cap it all we were not asked to pay for berthing on the quay although we gather that whether one pays or not is a hit or miss affair!
The magnificence of this place is even more remarkable than meets the eye considering that the village or town of 20,000 people, as it was then, was bombed to near destruction by the Nazis. In the nineteenth century the island was a flourishing trading post but this period of prosperity came to a close with the Turco-Italian war in the early nineteen twenties. Many of the inhabitants did not survive the harsh rule of the Italians or the Second World War blitz and about 80% of the survivors immigrated to Australia. The two hundred or so indigenous people that remain on the island together with Aussie relatives seeking their roots are rebuilding apace and the Island’s fortunes are looking up with the nascence of tourism.
In the cool of the early morning we climbed the steep path up the mountain behind the harbour to an elevation of about 300 metres. The view from the top over the harbour with the Turkish mountains as a backdrop was magical. Thyme, sage and oregano grew wild, the first of the autumn crocuses were blooming and a goat stood on a crag above us no doubt marvelling, as were we, at the view! A French lady we met at the top described it as mystical probably because of the priest chanting in the church far below.
The trip to Kekova Roads of about fourteen miles involved a pleasant sail to windward maintaining just under three knots boat speed in five knots of breeze and a flat sea. Kekova, ‘home of the sun’, is an ensemble of picturesque, olive and maquis covered rocky islands that protect a virtually landlocked sea with a myriad of perfectly sheltered beautiful bays and natural harbours, unspoiled landscapes and the ruins of ancient Lycian cities, some underwater now consumed by the turmoil of earthquake. This place has the blue skies and orange sunsets of a Van Gogh painting along with brilliant starry nights, peace and tranquillity, mythological mystery and the sparkling sea. It is a place to anchor, relax and reflect.
Nothing can, of course, be perfect. In these anchorages we are bedevilled daily by a mini plague of flies some of which nip us brutally. This amongst other things has driven us towards showing the first or perhaps the final signs of madness; we are talking to the creatures; ‘Don’t come near me I don’t like you’ – ‘you have two choices either you leave the boat or you’ll die’, etc. They don’t seem to listen or perhaps they fail to understand but it is of no consequence ultimately as they fall under the grim shadow of the ‘SWAT’!
Miggy and I had visited Ucagis separately some 25 years ago. The three or four restaurants on the waterfront are little changed and that which Miggy frequented all those years ago ‘Hassan’ still has the same chef and waitress! The village has grown with more villas and holiday accommodation but maintains its rustic nature. The really significant growth is in the tripper boats that take visitors to see the ruins of Lycian Apollonia along the northern shore of Kekova Island to see the sunken city under the clear water. From the castle high on the rocks above Kalekoy, formerly ancient Simena, we have a bird’s eye view of the bays, inlets and islands of this enchanting area.
One wonders how the Lycians who made their homes here over 2500 years ago would feel if they were to return to see their houses and the sarcophagi of their departed relatives partly engulfed by the sea and their harbours full of strange looking craft that are entirely useless for carrying amphora of olive oil and other goods for trade with the rest of the then known world; but perhaps we should instead wonder at the luck we have to be able to witness all this and everything else about our amazing adventure.

The Lycian Coast from Marmaris to Fethiye

2009-09-08T14:27:00.008Z

We continue our adventure sailing south east along the Turkish Lycian coast, named to reflect the indigenous Anatolian civilization that used to inhabit this rugged mountainous area some three to four thousand years ago. We see memorials to these warriors and skilled sailors in tombs carved out of sheer rock faces and massive sarcophagi sometimes engulfed by the very sea that these people plied.

Forty miles or so from Marmaris we entered the Fethiye Korfezi or Gulf with the chic yachting centre of Goçek, a small hamlet when we both sailed here twenty years ago, at its head and the working town of Fethiye on its eastern shore.

The particular attraction in this area is the virtually landlocked sea of Skopea Limani sheltered from the open ocean by a chain of islands on its eastern side. This calm waterway measures about seven miles long by two miles wide and its shores are indented with numerous beautiful anchorages seemingly carved out of the sandstone and granite hills whose pine clad slopes drop precipitously into the sea. The water truly is crystal clear and, at this time of year, perfect for swimming with a temperature of around 29°C. The air temperature in the shade rises to 30°C so it doesn’t feel at all cold taking a plunge just refreshingly cooling. Neal swam for the first time for probably twenty years so inviting was the water. We anchored in Kucuk Kuyruk in superbly beautiful surroundings and about a boat length from the steep to rock shoreline. The water is deep until very close to the shore and so a substantial amount of anchor chain has to be let out and the anchor made to bight before rowing or swimming a long line to the shore to tie to a tree or a rock. This can be quite entertaining in a crosswind as the boat gets further from the shore and more line has to be bent on to allow the swimmer or rower to even make dry land! We were one of just two yachts in this secluded cove and we felt a sense of ownership as well as sheer pleasure.

We are visited by a Kingfisher and we hear frogs first thing in the morning which inspired me to write an excuse for poetry:
By sunrise the croak of a frog and the chirping chorus of the birds gives way to the cicadas chatter; a kingfisher darts from rock to branch and back then dives fruitfully for its morning catch; he’s here again for lunch and tea followed by the humble bumble bee to quench his thirst and then as fades the evening light the screech of a solitary owl haunts long into the night.The delightful anchorages in Skopea Limani are too numerous to describe in totality but a few are of particular note such as Tasyaka Koyu or Tomb Bay with its Lycian and Pigeonhole rock tombs, colourful oleanders and the rock painting of a fish by the famous 1970’s painter Bedri Rahmi Eyyupoglu and the fjord like Boynuz Buku Koyu or Spring Bay with its Gunluk trees and teeming wildlife, the exquisite but crowded Yassica Adlari anchorages, Hammam Koyu or Ruin Bay with its partially underwater Byzantine ruins and Kapi Koyu or Wall Bay, the large wall on the shore covered in Graffiti where I made an absolute mess of trying to moor stern to in a light cross wind. I was embarrassed and cross to say the least!

The sheltered winter harbour at Tersane Island where peace reigned was idyllic. The ruins of the former Greek settlement abandoned in 1923 by reason of Ataturk’s Population Exchange policy boasted a shipyard after which the Island is named. A farmer or two lives here now with cows, goats, chickens and donkeys

It was forecast to blow for a few days so we felt it prudent to seek the shelter of Fethiye and its modern well appointed marina with helpful staff all at just £23 per night. Miggy took the opportunity to take our dhobi to the laundry and we had a dirty carburettor in our outboard motor repaired.

We made the trip to Kayakoy by Dolmush and passed through the holiday complex from hell, Hisaronu. As Kayakoy appeared through the pine forests we were startled at the sight of a hillside covered in a vast number of derelict stone buildings arranged in terraces so as not to overlook each other and so that each house could enjoy the view over the valley below, the sunshine and the cooling breeze.

After the fall of the Ottoman Empire and in his drive to establish a Turkish state in 1923 Ataturk introduced a ‘population exchange’ programme with Greece whereby Turkish Christians were exiled from Turkey and sent to Greece and Greek Muslims similarly were exiled to Turkey, a sort of non violent ethnic cleansing! Those who returned to Kayakoy preferred to live in the valley rather than on the hill and so this ghost town was created. It is haunting to wander the streets and through the houses of this once thriving community of 25,000 people who lived, learned, worked and played together; Christian, Muslim and Jew alike, and to think of their sorrow at leaving their homes and friends and all this within living memory. How can the human race be so intolerant and callous? A classic book ‘Birds without Wings’ by Louis de Bernieres, which we have read, makes it all the more poignant and brings to life the history of this region and its turmoil.

On a brighter note we are having enormous fun and have relaxed totally after a busy but enjoyable time in the UK seeing family and friends. We love Turkey and its people. For those of you who don’t know and who wish or need to contact us while aboard our telephone number is +447872226912.

Turkey’s Carian Coast

2009-07-05T10:25:00.023Z

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

2009-06-02T14:09:00.016Z

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

2009-05-05T07:18:00.007Z

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

2009-04-22T16:03:00.010Z

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

2009-03-13T16:28:00.015Z

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

2008-12-04T10:23:00.013Z

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

2008-11-20T10:43:00.008Z

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.

Annual Cruising Round-Up

2008-11-06T10:11:00.013Z

The highlight of our season was undoubtedly sailing into the heart of Venice to the very jaws of the Grand Canal just a cable or so from Piazza San Marco. We had set our heart on doing this during our honeymoon there some fourteen years ago.

To this end we left our winter base at Monastir, Tunisia at the beginning of March and watched the weather very carefully as we sailed to Malta and Gozo, the east coast of Sicily and the toe and heel of Italy. We then cruised through the Dalmatian Islands via the Istrian peninsular to and from Venice, dropping into Montenegro and Corfu on our way to our 2008/2009 winter base of Lefkas in the Ionian Islands.

Our statistics for the season compared with the two previous years since we left the UK are as follows:

Distance logged - 2400NM
Ave speed - 5.22 Knots
Under canvas - 15%
Motoring/motor sailing - 85%
Days at sea making passage - 48%

We have enjoyed the season immensely visiting some beautiful and interesting cruising grounds and places. In hindsight, however, we found 2400 miles in a season of seven months on the water without a break a little ambitious. We think that next year will revert to having a summer break in the UK to avoid the heat, crowds and expense of high season and also the meltemi!

The percentage time spent under canvas this year was significantly reduced compared with previous years for two reasons. Sailing northwestward up the Adriatic one tends to motor in the morning calms to avoid the afternoon fresh to strong northwesterlies in the afternoon. Our southeastward travel down the Adriatic during the crowded high season dictated that we arrive at our destination, be it anchorage, town quay or marina, by the early afternoon to ensure getting a berth. The dilemma here is that the sea breeze does not kick in until after midday and so the calm or very light breeze of the morning again severely limited the possibility of good quality sailing.

A bonus this year has been the opportunity to anchor in beautiful sheltered bays and harbours on many more occasions than in the past. We lay to our hook on 98 of the 204 times that we moored. We were limited to about ten consecutive nights at anchor by the amount of water we carry. Our average daily usage for drinking (inc. Tea and coffee), cooking, washing up (we don’t use salt water) and cleaning teeth is around 30 litres. We use solar deck showers having filled the bags at the previous watering hole.

The principal difficulties that we have experienced during our travels this year have been:
Getting camping gaz refills in Italy and Croatia
Lack of internet access in Croatia particularly WiFi
Expensive marinas, quays and cost of living generally in Croatia
Overcrowded moorings during the July and August mania

The benefits and pleasure of sailing to Venice and cruising Maltese, Sicilian, Croatian and Montenegrin waters has far outweighed these difficulties and we have no regrets whatsoever about our choice of destination, fond memories of which will stay with us forever.

We are astounded at the number of national ensign we have seen this season now standing at 54 from countries as diverse as Cuba, Sierra Leone, Lithuania, The Marshall islands, Japan and the Yemen. The British are in the Adriatic but in small numbers and most them are based in Croatian marinas rather than transiting as we were. We felt we had little social contact during the year as a result of the dearth of likeminded cruising folk of all nationalities except, of course, when we sailed in company for a week in the Sibenik archipelago with our Lymington friends Ted and Iris Watts and later when other friends from Lymington, Peter and Karen Mills, joined us on board Bella for eight days in the Dubrovnik area.

The large number of super and mega yachts, both sail and power, and some a lot smaller fly the Red Ensign with not a soul on board capable of understanding let alone speaking English. We have never considered the red Ensign as a flag of convenience but apparently Europeans are buying their yachts in England and registering them there to take advantage of our comparatively low rate of VAT.

We are now settling in to our winter base of Lefkas on the mountainous but lush Ionian Island of the same name which is separated from the mainland by a 23 metre wide canal and has been separated by a narrow waterway in one form or another since the 7th century BC. Lefkas town is a clean working town which, because of the constant threat of earthquake the last major event being in 2004, has buildings that are built generally no more than two storeys with masonry walls in the ground storey and timber framed and timber or corrugated iron clad in the first storey. Many have lovely wooden balconies covered with vines or Mediterranean flowers. The churches, and there are many of them, are small and ornate internally with earthquake resistant freestanding iron framed rather than masonry bell towers. It has all the amenities and facilities we could wish for within a short walk or, at most, a five minute bicycle ride from the sheltered marina. We like Lefkas and its clean, friendly atmosphere. People smile a lot here.

We have bought second hand bikes and are cycling every day, weather permitting, for exercise and convenience. The wildlife on the salt lagoons around Lefkas town is amazing with Dalmatian pelicans, storks, flamingos, egret, coots, pintails, kingfishers and more.

There will be a social life for us here in the marina as there are over seventy liveaboards in around forty boats based here for the winter. Some live here permanently with houses ashore, some have made this marina their permanent base but still reside in UK and others like us are just passing through. The majority of people are British but there are three Swedish couples and a single Swedish chap, one Belgians couples (Yannes and Agni on ‘Dushi’ already known to us), two German couples, a French couple with two children and a Dutch couple. We have already met many of these people and a pontoon party helped break the ice. Our friends from Lymington, Peter and Ruth Austin are here as are friends we met in Spain two years ago, Martin and Linda. Miggy volunteered our services to host the radio net once a week.

The weather, with very few exceptions, has been excellent. We are still sitting in the cockpit for lunch most days in a temperature of 24°C. The thought of the cold weather in the UK sends shivers down our spines but we are looking forward tremendously to seeing family and friends over the Christmas period.

Until then, Yassas

Montenegro to Lefkas

2008-09-30T16:09:00.011Z

We started the 175 mile passage from Budva, Montenegro to Gouvia marina, Corfu at 0930 and arrived 33 hours later having not sailed an inch. The distance through the water was 190 miles meaning that we suffered an average of nearly half a knot of adverse tide. Who says there’s no tide in the Mediterranean?

Miggy trailed her fishing line but apart from the ‘big one that got away’ she didn’t catch a thing. We glimpsed Albania as dawn broke before we were enveloped in dense fog, or was it smog, for an hour or so. As the fog cleared we saw a large school of Dolphins circling and Tuna jumping, both feeding on their small fish prey. We tentatively sailed through former minefields, now considered ‘not dangerous to surface navigation’, along the arid mountainous Albanian coast until we reached the north east tip of the contrastingly luxuriant green island of Corfu. At this point Albania is only a mile from Corfu. With its relatively recent Democracy and political stability Albania is opening up to tourism. Yachts are returning to Albanian waters and yachtsmen report fair but cumbersome formalities and friendly and welcoming people. The Authorities’ main concern is drug running and stowaways.

The temperature in Corfu was lower than we had in Croatia and Montenegro but the humidity was much higher making life quite uncomfortable. A little after our arrival the heavens opened and we had a dramatic thunder storm which lasted for an hour or two. In fact the weather was poor from then for a further two weeks during which we had rain, thunderstorms and cool temperatures sometimes low enough to abandon the shorts and T shirts for trousers and fleeces! We have had two weeks of rain in these lush green islands and still they charge us €3 to €5 for 200 litres of water. It is almost cheaper to buy the bottled stuff.

Formalities in the marina were handled by a rather disinterested young man. He had a laugh at Miggy’s port documentation form which she had translated into Greek. In fact she had merely transposed letters from the Latin alphabet to the Greek alphabet. The words were, of course, meaningless. Miggy later translated the port documentation using the Yachtsman’s Ten Language Dictionary and the phrase book and the Port Police lady was impressed! The cost of the marina at 34€ was twice what we had expected. It was surprising to find that it was high season until the end of September.

We are used to being on the flight path to airport runways but never before have we been within 20 metres of the taxiway from an aircraft’s stand to the runway. The seaplane from Corfu to Lefkas, Patras, Brindisi and other places is based at Gouvia Marina. We had 10 kilos of laundry done for 24€. Miggy was ecstatic not to have had to wash all that by hand.

Customs procedures, as we thought them to be, were carried out by three people doing one persons job but they were happy and welcoming. We had to pay £35 which included an entry tax and our Traffic Document (DEKPA). We discovered on leaving Corfu that these people were not the Customs but the Port Police and that we were actually persona non grata. We were told to try to clear Customs at our next port of call. We tried this at Gaios on the island of Paxos but the Officer waved us away when he learnt that we and the boat were British!

We have finally found out where all the Brits hang out. It is here in Corfu. There are some who have annual contracts, some who, like us, are passing through and some who have been here for years and who, looking at the state of their boats, will never move again. Some have moved base from marinas in Croatia here to Corfu because of the inhibitive expense of Croatia.

The Ionian Islands are the greenest and most luxuriant of all Greek archipelagos. Corfu, the most northerly Island, is the most verdant of all with one of the highest winter rainfalls in Greece. It is mountainous in the north with pine and cypress clad slopes interspersed with the silver grey of olive sloping down to the waters’ edge. Cows graze and much of Corfu’s plentiful produce grows on the fertile plains in the south.

Corfu is the fabled home of the Phaeacians who ferried Odysseus home to Ithaka in the 13th century BC. The desire for Corfu’s independence from the Corinthians who colonised the island from the 8th to the 5th century BC involved the Athenians and the Spartans and led circuitously to the Peloponnesian war that was in effect the demise of Athens and classical Greece. The Romans holidayed here during from the 3rd century BC until the 8th century AD when the Byzantines took power until the 11th century. After three hundred years in the wilderness the Venetians ruled until the end of the 18th century. The French had a go for seventeen years until the British took over for 50years and introduced cricket, croquet, ginger beer and fruit cake. Corfu finally ceded to Greece in 1864.

The fact that the monsoon arrived as soon as we set foot in Corfu town may have clouded our opinion of the place. In the two and a half years that we have been travelling around the Mediterranean, however, we have visited many interesting and beautiful towns and cities among which Corfu town does not rank.

The legacy of the Venetians, the French and the British is evidenced in some fine architecture but the buildings are grimy and in disrepair. The Old Venetian fortress that would have been subject to continual restoration and repair in any other town or city is neglected and actually partly collapsed. The stucco surfaces of The Palace of St Michael and St George built by the British and the home of the Greek royal family for a short time and of the French built Liston whose colonnades now house expensive cafes are grimy black as if the edifices were situated in the Welsh valleys. Even the cricket pitch has the indignity of being surrounded on three sides by car parks. The maze of narrow alleyways over which Corfiot housewives hang their washing from the balconies and the shady cobbled squares are picturesque but the buildings need far-reaching renovation. We did all the sightseeing prescribed including climbing to the top turret of the Old Fortress and then returned to the Marina where we had a very good Greek cuisine meal at a reasonable price.

A rare but wonderful and exhilarating reach from the marina at Corfu took us to Ormiskos Valtou hear Igoumenitsa on the mainland shore. We anchored in this secluded and picturesque bay for three nights. A tiny Belgian yacht called Dushi with Yannis and Agni on board that was beside us in the Marina also came in to the bay later on. The thunder roared and the rain poured and it blew up to 30 knots but we were secure and happy; that is until our anchor dragged after three mighty gusts hits us. The mud we had dropped our anchor on was soft and not the sticky stuff that holds well. We moved into a little more shelter and were fine from then on.

Herds of goats were heralded by their beautifully toned bells, herons flew from rock to tree and back to rock and the fish jumped high. This was a wonderfully natural and tranquil place.

Our next destination was Gaios on the island of Paxos. We were happy to see that Yannic and Agni on Dushi were of like mind.

The islands of Paxos and its tiny partner Antipaxos form the smallest archipelago of the Ionian Island group. Paxos is an island of endless olive groves and Antipaxos is one large vineyard. There are 2500 inhabitants on the islands but they are invaded by 200,000 visitors during the summer months mostly arriving by boat from Corfu and Parga on the mainland. Homer was the first to refer to Paxos and thereafter its history is much the same as that of Corfu except that the Turks managed to invade twice during the 16th century.

Gaios waterfront is pictographic with its multi coloured 19th century buildings with Venetian fashion shutters and balconies. Behind are the historic narrow streets with their cafes, tavernas and shops. It is a sleepy place, except when invaded by the tourist boats, and the atmosphere is sociable and, I guess, ‘Greek’.

During our forty mile trip from Gaios to the Gulf of Amvrika amongst thunderstorms we passed Preveza, the winter storage ashore Mecca for those not wintering aboard. The Amvrika Gulf is an extensive and virtually landlocked sea surrounded by impressive distant mountains. It had little to offer us, however, with cloudy water and unsheltered anchorages.

Vonitsa waterfront is attractive but nothing particularly special. We walked around the town which is relatively modern and clearly tourist orientated. The tourists have gone home now, however, and the place looks forlorn and feels lifeless. Even the Venetian fort on top of the hill, in the course of renovation with EU money, was closed. We moored amongst a number of other Brits and Germans waiting to be lifted out of the water at Preveza. There are British and German boat gypsies here as well because there is no payment for berthing.

We arrived at the entrance to the narrow ship canal that has separated Lefkas Island from the mainland since antiquity on time for the road bridge to open which it duly did. A German yacht, last in the queue, typically went through first! Why do they have this towel bagging mentality and always want to be first and to be where you are? The entrance is narrow with a sand bar extending from the western point which I had erroneously ignored when fixing my waypoint. Luckily Miggy had spotted another yacht going behind the bar so we are still afloat! On our way down the canal we saw a varied selection of bird life including, to our utter amazement, Pelicans.

Faint memories of happy weeks of sailing here some thirty years ago came back to me as we made our way to Nidri on the east coast of Lefkas Island. We moored to the crowded town quay squeezed into one of the two vacant spaces. The quay and the wrongly named Tranquil Bay were crammed with yachts most of which were British flagged or on charter and the waterfront was wall to wall restaurants and Tavernas. The smell of bad cooking oil and drains is rife. It is all particularly disillusioning for me as I recall a small town with a quay occupied by just a few yachts and a bay that reflected its name of Tranquil. Still Miggy was ecstatic that she managed to find a good, inexpensive laundry.

We were pleased to leave the quay and wend our way through the crowd of anchored yachts to the large but sheltered Vlikho Bay just a mile or so away where we anchored, waiting to take up our berth in Lefkas Marina. We didn’t want to get there until the end of September as the high season rates of €34 a night applies until then. This Bay, which is really just an extension of the parking lot for Nidri, was relatively crowded when we arrived and got more so as the day wore on. Ultimately a flotilla of 12 Jaguar 27’s parked very close to us. These are the very yachts that we used to sail here nearly thirty years ago and I seem to recall that ‘Andros’ anchored very near us was the yacht we had on one trip.

We have booked flights to arrive back in the UK on the 16th December and to return to Athens on the 29th January 2008. This wasn’t easy as Easyjet made an error with our online booking and confirmed and took payment for a booking for flights they had previously told us were full. Thus, although we have successfully booked a flight home, we paid twice for it. The airline considered this to be our error and no amount of argument would convince them otherwise. They would not give a refund and so we have had to settle for a credit against further flights. Bring back Stavros! Anyway we look forward very much to seeing family and friends whilst we are at home.

We are pleased to have arrived at our winter base after a season of seven months during which we have travelled over 2500 miles. Our address at Lefkas Marina from the 1st October will be:

Lefkas Marina S.A.
Lefkas East Shore 31 100
Lefkas
Greece

Our mobile Greek number is +30 6955948709

For those early risers Miggy’s dulcet tones will be heard on BBC Radio Solent at around 0635 on Wednesday the 22nd October 2008.

Croatia revisited and Montenegro discovered

2008-09-14T08:47:00.015Z

The romance of Venice seventy five miles behind us, entry formalities in Pula, Croatia were made difficult by the fact that the official who carried out our exit formalities at 0600 on the day of our departure to Venice had, in fact, entered rather than exited us! Complications were further compounded when immigration police discovered Miggy’s birthplace of Karachi and questioned her parentage. The Croats are not particularly keen on Muslims.

The Croats are not particularly keen on foreigners is general including the Italians who flock to the Dalmatian Islands in their thousands in craft of all types during July and August. We were told by many yachties and Croatian marina staff that they take every marina and town quay berth and crowd the anchorages without a thought for anybody else on the water. We were also told that the noise they make is deafening and antisocial and certainly not conducive to sleep.

In fact, despite the fact that we took steps to ensure that we secured our berth for the night, we did not experience serious overcrowding neither did we find the Italians any more antisocial than other nationals. Apart from the Austrians, it was the crews on yachts of a British flotilla that we found most disruptive and inconsiderate and it was the ‘lads’ from the Czech Republic that were the noisiest of all.

The strategy mentioned in the previous paragraph for ensuring a berth for the night was to arrive at our destination in the early afternoon. The dilemma here is that the sea breeze does not kick in until after midday and so the calm or very light breeze of the morning severely limited the possibility of good quality sailing.

During our month’s voyage back through the Dalmatian Islands we revisited many of our favourite towns and anchorages from before and we called in to a few places that were new to us.

Drevnik Veli on the Island of the same name is a delightful little harbour with a sheltered anchorage for no more than four or five yachts. During our stroll around this small town we noticed that there are many dilapidated or, indeed ruined houses amongst those still inhabited. The front facade of the church stands intact although the front section has been demolished and a new facade built further back. We are told that the ruins were Serbian occupied buildings before the war thirteen years ago. The peace treaty declared that Serbian homes in Croatia would remain in Serbian ownership untouched awaiting their possible return. Of course the Serbians would not be welcome in Croatia so they have not returned and the buildings have become dilapidated.

Vis, the main settlement on the island of Vis is a charming little place that has played its part in history. It was founded by the Greeks and later ruled by the Romans, the Byzantines and from 1420, the Venetians. It played a crucial part in World War 11 when Marshall Tito used the Island as a base for coordinating partisan military operations and met partisans, the Yugoslavian government and the allies in ‘Tito’s cave’.

Our Journal reads ‘We sailed into heaven today where one or two yachts were anchored in the secluded bay of Uvala Gradina at the western end of Otok Korcula. An Italian charter flotilla of six large yachts joined us together with many other charter yachts performing anchoring rituals never to be seen in the pages of Yachting Monthly. Later in the evening this beautiful bay with its oak, pine and cypress clad slopes plunging into the crystal clear turquoise water became a cacophonous hell. We discovered that one can turn hell back into heaven with a long dose of 5,000,000 candle power of halogen and a few carefully chosen words of Italian or English, it matters not’.

As we approached Luka Mali Lago on the Island of Lastovo a forest fire broke out at the top of the hill overlooking our anchorage. Flames shot heavenward accompanied by black smoke and nearby aerials were threatened. Fortunately there was no significant wind to fan the flames and spread the area of the fire too extensively. Three water carrying aircraft put on an exceptionally skilful and daring display for over an hour to quell the flames, which they did with great success.

We hired a ‘quad bike’ to have a look around Otok Lastovo. Our daredevil ride took us around the coast of Luka Veli Lago and its hotel and small marina packed with Italians hopefully waiting for good weather to go home and then on to Ubli, the ferry port and customs point. Ubli is a ghost town left by the military when they moved off the island a few years ago, prior to which it was closed to tourists. We then drove over the hills, some of which were nearly too much for our poor old bike, to Lastovo where we looked at the 12th century church of St Blaise, a small church from the fourteenth century and a sixteenth century loggia. Lack of tourism has helped preserve these and other monuments including Roman villas. A drive downhill found us in the nearly landlocked inlet of Zaklopatica which is now surrounded by restaurants and private houses and thus totally spoiled from the idyllic setting that must have existed not many years ago.

On the way along the north coast of Otok Mljet, perhaps our favourite of all the Dalmatian Islands, we anchored in the virtually landlocked Luka Prozura, a most charming bay with a village and a few holiday homes and no cars.

Whilst having a rare and extremely good value meal ashore at the Konoba Barba a lady joined us at the table because she thought we were American. She was Slovenian from Ljubljana and we became friendly with Barbara and Dusan Rogelj and their 12 year old son, Lovrenc. We were honoured to be invited to eat with them on the balcony of the apartment in which they were holidaying and they told us many stories of the problems of the former Yugoslavia and its later transformation into the many democratic republics that exist today.

Long standing friends from Lymington, Peter and Karen Mills, joined us at Dubrovnik and we spent a very pleasant few days with them cruising the Southern Dalmatian islands. On the way to Cavtat, where Peter and Karen were to leave us, we sailed right up to the harbour of the walled city of Dubrovnik and that was an exceptional experience.

To moor at the town quay at Cavtat costs just under £50 per night and there are no showers. The quay is dominated by super yachts. In high season the Italians bring their 70m mega yachts here and it would have been impossible for us to berth. The Harbourmaster reckons that this will be the ‘Portofino’ of Croatia in the not too far distant future and that the likes of us will not be able to afford to step onto the quay let alone berth there! Tom Cruise was here last week on a super yacht ketch moored just along from us. Peter and Karen kindly treated us to supper in the restaurant frequented by Abramavic and other rich and famous people. I doubt that they will hang photos of us outside their doors however!

Reports of high berthing prices and of a ‘police state’ had put us off visiting Montenegro but our minds were changed when a kind fellow yachtsman phoned us from Kotor and told us that the place was wonderful and that prices were reasonable.

Montenegro’s Adriatic ‘fjord’, the Boka Kotorska, consisting of three large gulfs linked with narrow channels, is rugged and spectacular being surrounded by mountains up to 1700m tall. After clearing customs and immigration very efficiently and cordially at the port of Zelenika (they even gave us a Montenegrin courtesy flag within the price of our week Vignette of 67€) we berthed on the quay at the historic town of Herceg Novi. The town was founded in 1382 by the King of Bosnia, Stjepan Tvrtko 1 and has had a bloody history since being attacked and besieged on numerous occasions until it was fortified in the 15th century by the Duke of Hum. Many rulers since then including the Turks, Venetians, Spaniards, Russians, French and Austrians have left evidence of their occupation in the form of well camouflaged fortifications and public buildings and the old town, despite having been severely damaged by an earthquake in 1979, lives on in splendour and beauty.

The town of Kotor appears at first sight nondescript if not ugly with a derelict hotel and sixties high rise concrete office block. Raising one’s eyes to the slopes of the Lovcen Mountain towering above the town, however, one will see the fort of St. Ivan 260 metres up with defensive walls zigzagging down to the old town at sea level. The town probably dates from the 3rd century BC and has been destroyed and rebuilt many times since. The fort and walls and the majority of the town’s building date from the Venetian occupation during the 15th to 18th centuries. The 15th century Clock Tower, the cathedral of St Tryphon and the tiny church of St Luke’s together with fine Venetian palaces line narrow streets and alleyways paved with pink and white stone polished by the soles of countless feet.

Also on the banks of the Boka Kotorska continued stands Perast, a former flourishing port and home to great sailors. Peter the Great sent his Russian Naval officers to study here. Despite being a UNESCO World Heritage Site the town, lacking the resources for restoration, is somewhat dilapidated.

A few hundred metres offshore from Perast are the tiny Islands of Sv. Djordje and Gospa od Skrpjela. On Sv. Djordje where stood an influential 16thcentury Benedictine Monastery now stands a small church and a walled garden. Gospa od Skrpjela is artificial having been formed, it is said, by the inhabitants of Perast filling captured pirate ships with stones and sinking them on the reef.

The twenty mile sail along the rocky Montenegrin coast took us to Budva. Despite being the centre of Montenegrin tourism and the myriad of holidaymakers that go with it, Budva’s minuscule walled old town dating from Illyrian times and developed by the Venetians, Austrians, Russians, French and latterly the Austro-Hungarian monarchy is utterly enchanting.

The Montenegrin people appear calmer and less demanding than their Croatian counterparts and their greeting of ‘welcome to Montenegro’ is far preferable to the Croat ‘Now you must pay’. The cost of living would appear to be about two thirds of that in Croatia.

It is mid September and time to leave the Adriatic and head south to our winter base of Lefkas in the Greek Ionian Islands. We are due there on the 1st of October and on the way will visit Corfu and various ports and anchorages in the Northern Ionian.

Our Greek telephone number is 0030 6955948709

Venice

2008-08-03T17:20:00.014Z

Half way through our planned five year cruise and it was time to sail to Venice, the highlight of the year and, perhaps, of the whole trip.
The voyage from Rovinj involved a 0500 start but we had to tie up at the town quay and wake the Police and Customs man to clear out of the country. I am convinced he didn’t grasp the situation but he stamped a crew list and we were on our way. The wind direction and speed was variable but we managed to sail for a couple of hours during the ten hour crossing. A turtle was surprised to see us so close and dived quickly and three dolphins appeared but they were more interested in following the nets of a trawler than in us. We do hope they have sense enough not to become ensnared in those nets as, judging by the lack of dolphins in the northern Adriatic, many have been.

We are amazed that the depth of water for the entire 70 mile voyage did not exceed 35 metres. In fact the whole of the northern and central Adriatic is shallow with depths no greater than around 80 metres. It is not until the South Adriatic basin that soundings reach 1100 metres. Not at all like the 3000 metres we are used to in the western Mediterranean and the Ionian Sea

Miggy cut my hair as a sacrifice to Neptune no doubt. It is much more comfortable short in this hot weather and she did make a good job of it.

Nearly fifteen years ago when we were here on our honeymoon we wished and in a way pledged that we would sail into Venice on our own yacht. To have achieved this dream, sailing right up to the Piazza San Marco and the entrance to the Grand Canal, was a truly wonderful and emotional experience that bought a tear to the eye. Sailing in Venetian waters is not without its dangers however with vaporettos (water buses), ferries, taxis, tripper and working boats going at speed randomly this way and that creating wash reminiscent of the Needles Channel with a strong wind against tide.

We found a berth at the Diporto Velico Veneziano club marina at San’t Elena where we experienced a new method of mooring stern to with our bows tied to piles each side in a typically Venetian way. The Marina has good facilities and costs less than we had imagined although still expensive at €45 per night plus €4 tourist tax per person. We were so pleased to be moored in the heart of Venice experiencing the colours, sights, sounds, smells and tastes that evoke so many very happy memories.

In all the visits each of us has made to Venice, together or separately, neither of us has explored the eastern Castello in which San’t Elena is situated. The area, which is off the tourist trail is at the eastern limit of the city and is very much the home of the Venetians. Our walk started in the Via Garibaldi, the home of John Cabot and his son, Sebastian the Italian Navigators who in 1497 discovered what they thought to be China but in reality was the Labrador coast of Newfoundland. This local busy shopping street for the residents of the area was created when Napoleon filled in the canal in 1808. We bought a few ‘Italian’ specialities including some Gran Padano cheese and two umbrellas to shield us from the torrential rain that lasted on and off until the evening! July is supposedly the driest month of the year with an average of just 2cm. We had that and more during our stay. Still when we were here on our honeymoon in April 1994 it snowed!

A peaceful three mile stroll took us through quiet streets, over bridges and along the narrow canals to the small island of San Pietro di Castello, one of Venice’s earliest settlements. The church of San Pietro founded in the 7th century although the present building dates from the 16th century was the cathedral of Venice and remained so until 1807 when the Basilica San Marco took its place. The church houses the marble throne from an Arabic tombstone originally said to have been the Seat of St Peter. The elegant 15th century free standing campanile tilts quite dramatically as many in the city and islands in the Lagoon do.
San’t Elena has a pretty Gothic church founded in the 13th century and extensive shady gardens along the waterfront.
We had supper at a gem of a Pizzeria, ‘Vecia Gina’, which was packed with locals. The Pizzas, and there were 41 varieties on the menu, were delicious with thin bases, moist pommodoro and mozzarella and a liberal amount of topping ranging from anchovy to suckling pig. The antipasti were also wonderful comprising mainly a selection of local cheeses or a generous platter of cold meats including suckling pig, salami, cooked ham and prosciutto crudo. It was cheap to boot.

We revisited the glorious heart of Venice and reminisced about the time we were here on honeymoon over fourteen years ago. The monuments are the same although some have been restored in the interim but the crowds of tourists here was something to which we were not used, it being winter or spring when we have visited before. Nonetheless the splendour of this unique place prevails over the 12 million or more visitors that invade the city every year.

Many Venetians may argue with this statement and would contend that so desirable are apartments to foreigners for occasional use that rents have risen beyond their means. A Venetian now resident in Milan told us that the number of born and bred Venetians resident in the city had fallen from 150,000 to 50,000 since 1950. Most jobs created by the tourist industry are filled by people living on the mainland.

Becoming a museum is not the only threat to Venice. The city has also been in grave danger from the ‘acqua alter’ or high tides that result in flooding and paralysation of the city and from the excessive wash from power vessels plying the canals aerating and undermining the foundations of the buildings so causing decay in the wooden piling. The first of these problems is being addressed after protracted controversy by the building of a flood prevention barrier across the lagoon but the wash issue remains – You can’t tell an Italian to slow down!

The Grand Canal is the two and a half mile long winding main thoroughfare sweeping through the heart of the city from the Piazza San Marco to the Piazzale Roma where road and rail connect to the mainland over the causeway. The return trip in the No.1 slow vaporetto which takes about an hour and a half gave us time to admire the fine architecture of the grand palaces lining both banks and the former markets of the Rialto to which in the past stately galleys, gondolas and trading vessels made their way. The beauty of the Canal, the hustle and bustle of the waterway and the sounds and smells all so typical of this great city, came flooding back to us.
The Gondola is, of course, a Venetian institution. They have been plying the canals for over 1000 years, formerly as transport for the aristocracy and of goods from the markets to the palaces and now used in the main for the pleasure of the tourist. Gondolas are hand crafted from nine woods; beech, mahogany, cherry, elm, fir, larch, lime, oak and walnut. A new boat takes three months to build and costs in the region of £10,000.

As well as a ride along the Grand Canal we will never tire of the elegance of the Piazza San Marco with its Basilica and Campanile. The views from the top of the Campanile over the city and the lagoon are spectacular. If you are lucky and visibility permits, as we were, the peaks the Dolomites set a dramatic backdrop to this superb vista. It is also the only tower, minaret or campanile of the hundreds we have climbed in the many cities and towns we have visited over the last two and a half years that has a lift! The current tower replaces that which collapsed in 1902 and was built ‘’dov’era e com’era’’ (‘’where it was and how it was’’)

The central section of the beautifully proportioned and richly decorated 15th century Torre dell’Orologia opposite the Campanile was built with seafarers in mind as the highly ornamented clock face displays not only the time but the phases of the moon and the Zodiac.

Time had dulled our memory of the supreme magnificence of the awe inspiring Basilica San Marco. This 11th century edifice, strangely for a church, is filled with the rich stores of conquest. To give the RC Church its due this eastern bounty was gained by the powerful Venetian Republic when San Marco served as the Doges private chapel before it was adopted as the Cathedral. The rich interior gleams with golden mosaic covered ceilings, arches and domes, with multi coloured marble columns and marble and glass mosaic floors. The external elevations are fascinating with ornate stone doorway carvings and fine facade mosaics. One mosaic in particular that amuses us shows St Mark’s body being smuggled out of Alexandria reputedly under slices of pork to deter prying Muslims.

A visit to Piazza San Marco is not complete without a coffee at the Cafe Florian. The elegant charm of the interior of the Cafe, founded in 1720, strikes an atmosphere of the age when it was frequented by 19th century literary figures such as Byron, Proust and Dickens. Sitting indoors or at a table in the Piazza watching the world go by is brilliant the only drawback being that a cup of coffee costs about the same as 500g of good quality fresh ground Arabaca coffee and a club sandwich filled with ‘’bresaola’’ (cured raw beef) asparagus cream, thin slices of parmigiano and rocket, the price of a good steak and chips. If the resident orchestra is playing an additional packet of coffee per person is added to the bill.

A walk around the back streets of Piazza San Marco to find a Venetian flag drew a blank so we walked a round about way to the Rialto where Miggy found the flag we were looking for and which Bella now wears with pride. We had a beer in the shade of the famous Rialto Bridge at the canal side watching the Gondoliers gracefully and skilfully row their craft in and out of impossible situations.

We were unaware when we arrived here that the Festa del Redentore, when the people of Venice commemorate the city’s deliverance from the plague in 1576, was happening during our stay. We weaved our way through the Venetians street parties and joined the crowds lining the Zattere, which was filled to capacity with anchored boats ranging from gondolas to mega yachts, to watch a spectacular firework display. It was all very reminiscent of the Cowes Week fireworks!

Another essential trip for us when in Venice is to take a vaporetto ride to the islands of Torcello and Burano, passing Cimitero, the cemetery where many 19th century writers and painters are buried as well as locals, and Murano, famous for its glass, on the way. Burano is an island of fishermen and their cottages fronting the canal are individually painted in differing colours, some pastel shades and some not so restrained. It is an extremely appealing sight. We were amazed to discover that the restaurant in which we chose to at lunch quite by chance was that in which we had lunch during our honeymoon all those years ago. The proprietor and the waiter that served us were there then as well!

After a delay of a day due to strong winds and having shopped for things Italian, mostly luxuries that we are unable to buy in Croatia such as Parmesan cheese, potted shrimps, artichoke and so on, we sailed for Pula.

One has to get used to the ebb and flow of tides in the Venice Lagoon, where they can run up to 4 knots at springs, and in the whole of the extreme Northern Adriatic basin. Our progress was helped or hindered by as much as 2 knots in the open sea between Venice and Pula. It is just like being in the Solent.

The Dolomites were exceptionally clear from the water and we could see the 3000+m high snow capped peaks around Cortina over 100 miles away. The hills of northern Croatia hove into sight 50 miles off and for a long time we could see, at the same time, the mountains and hills surrounding the entire basin of the extreme Northern Adriatic. Visibility was therefore at least 100 miles!

Whilst at anchor in Pula, the most stunning sunset we have ever seen lasted for all of an hour and to top it all there was a double rainbow after the sun had gone down below the horizon! And so with this natural spectacle we came to the end of our ‘holiday’ in what is perhaps our favourite city in the world. We raised our glasses with the wish to return to Venice, the most romantic of places, in the not too far distant future.

More of Northern Dalmatia and some of Istria (9th – 16th July 2008)

2008-07-25T14:02:00.014Z

Our engine was having hot flushes when she worked at anything over 2,000 rpm We had made all the usual checks on the thermostat, raw water pump impeller, raw water exhaust mixing elbow, etc, but to no avail. It was clearly sick so we took it to the Yanmar doctor at Hramina on Otok Murter just north of the Sibenik archipelago where we left you in our last blog. This engine medic, Jakov of Brodomehanika d.o.o, Hramina Marina, was superlative; he diagnosed the problem without stepping on board and cured it efficiently and skilfully within hours of the new part being delivered and at no cost to us. The fault was in the heat exchanger where the raw water passages had been under designed by 40%. Overheating may not arise in these circumstances in the cold water of the North Atlantic but in the 28°C sea water temperature of the Mediterranean it certainly does.

Yanmar 3YM30 owners amongst you who may be worried about this let your dealer have the engine serial number and he will check to see whether or not your engine has the fault. We are amazed that Jeanneau or the Yanmar dealer, Marine Power Ltd, Deacon’s Boatyard, Bursledon, who commissioned our engine when we bought the boat new three years ago failed to let advise us of the fault or, if neither of these organizations were aware of the problem at the time of sale, why they failed to recall the engine when the fault became apparent. That’s the boat industry for you!

We enjoyed the bustle of Murter town and the lush vegetation on the island and the bay in which we anchored was well sheltered. We decided however that we would explore the Kornati islands during the few days that it would take for the new heat exchanger for the engine to arrive.

The Kornati Islands which form the southern part of the Zadar archipelago were designated a National Park in 1980 to protect the waters to allow all kinds of marine life to flourish and to restrict building. The Romans built fine villas here within the lush vegetation and the Venetians used the sheltered waters as a base for their fleet. The islands now are barren white limestone having been deforested by the shepherds of Murter in the early 20th century to improve the grazing for their sheep.
We had been of the mind that the lunar like landscape would not be that scenic or conducive to anchoring but in reality we were absolutely enchanted with the magnificence of this rocky chain of islands, the sheltered waters between them and the beautiful coves with crystal clear waters, the white sandy seabed and the resulting vibrant cerulean waters. No wonder there are 350 plant and 350 animal species here.

The settlement of Vrulje on Otok Kornat is a really picturesque setting with the tiny village at the head of the inlet. We were welcomed by four donkeys on the headland as we sailed in, these being the first wild animals we have seen in Croatia since the two horses at U. Luka on the island of Brac a month ago. Where do they get their meat from we wonder? It rained torrentially for a full 24 hours while we moored at Vrulje.

Next day we sailed in the sunshine under headsail alone at the pedestrian but very pleasant speed of about 2.5 knots past Otok Mana, famous for its overhanging cliffs and for the ruins of a Greek style village built in 1961 as a set for the film ‘The Raging Sea’ and, on Otok Kornat itself, the ruin of a 6th century Byzantine lookout tower and a small medieval church dedicated to the Virgin Mary. We feel that the islands are greener than the pictures we have seen but perhaps this is due to the time of year and the amount of rain we’ve had recently.

A delightful cove at Prolaz Proversa Mala provided good shelter from the forecast ‘bora’, a strong katabatic wind feared by all mariners that blows from the northeast.
In reality this ‘bora’ was a tame affair that disturbed our comfort not a drop! There was always something to see here with yachts, tripper boats and a sizeable fishing fleet passing this way and that through the 14m wide by 4m deep passage between Dugi Otok and Otok Katina. The cicadas here were deafening but they shut up when the sun went down only to be replaced by birdsong. A donkey’s neigh added to the cacophony. A walk ashore found us stumbling across the ruins of a roman villa on the water’s edge of the promontory of the Dugi Otok side of the prolaz. and a round stone tower on the waterfront about 2 metres tall which we thought to be the remains of an ancient lookout tower but turned out to be the outside loo, complete with French style ‘squat’ pan, for the nearby houses.

King Edward V11 is said to have pondered his decision to abdicate in the Kornati islands. He and Wallis Simpson spent their honeymoon in Luka Telascica, a deep inlet into the south of Dugi Otok, the island to the north of the Kornati archipelago. We spent a couple of days moored to a buoy just off Farfarikulac, a thrones throw from where they were anchored, in idyllic surroundings. The vista is truly stunning with tree lined slopes disappearing into green blue water.

A warden from the National Park authority collected the fee of 60Kn per person per day, a 20% rise on last year! Mind you we have experienced 40% increases in anchorages further north! Croatia is very expensive all round. The cost of food, Marina berths and other moorings is high at around Solent prices. We think that this greed will ultimately be the downfall of the popularity of sailing this area despite its delights.

Our bottom needed scrubbing and antifouling so we arranged with a nearby marina to be hauled out of the water. They needed only two working days notice and no wonder why as this 1200 berth giant had at least four 30 ton or larger hoists at work.

To get to the marina Dalmacija we took a passage between Otok Pasman and Otok Ugljan over which spanned a bridge under which there was 16.5 metres air clearance. Even though much calculation and measurement showed that we were 16metres from waterline to masthead, including antennas, it is still heart stopping to pass under with only a half metre to spare. From deck level it looks as though one is certain to hit the bridge but we didn’t. This 44 foot charter yacht with eight Czech chaps on board, probably drunk, had not done their calculations!

The temperature had risen whilst we were out of the water to 32°C in the shade. We therefore rose at 0445 to do the work before the heat of the sun which even at 0900 it was in the high twenties. We also worked after supper as the sun was setting. We completed the scrubbing, antifouling and polishing in four days and launched off into the comparative cool of the sea. In the water also we have had to rig awnings, tents and covers of all manner to keep us and down below cool. Miggy has the knack of doing this having been taught by her father whilst growing up in India.

From the Marina on the mainland we enjoyed pleasant sailing northwest to Otok Molat, Otok Ist, Otoks Ilovik and Sv.Petar and through the remaining smaller islands of northern Dalmatia with the backdrop of the Velebit mountains, the home of the fiercest of the dreaded bora wind, towering above all at 1200 metres.
The Zaljev Pantera Otok Ilovik were just two of the beautiful anchorages on our way to Mali Losinj on Otok Losinj our departure point for the mainland of the Istrian peninsula. Mali Losinj is at the south of a narrow landlocked bay and is a pretty holiday resort with some fine buildings on the waterfront. It has a distinct Mediterranean, if not Italian, ambience.

We were not prepared for what we were to find on mainland Croatia and the Istrian peninsular. It is low lying land with wall to wall caravan and camp sites, the screams of children and adults alike thrashing around in the water and out of the water in tiny sports boats, pedalos and anything else that might float. We had come to Butlins, Croatia but we did have a quiet and pleasant night at our anchorage and there was no charge! In fact we found a couple of pretty anchorages but they were crowded. The antics of the anchoring yachts were often bizarre sometimes verging on the ludicrous. The skippers of some yachts have the seamanship skills of a sick cow and the manners of a pig, although that’s being unfair to the pig. Talking of pigs, however, an Austrian yacht, from being in a head to head situation with us and passing clear port to port, changed course directly for us apparently deliberately. We had to alter course violently to avoid a collision and he passed us laughing. We have heard that the Austrians have a bad name in these parts as being extremely arrogant, self centered and offensive. This particular Austrian’s antics were dangerous, childish and vulgar and certainly bear out the observations of others.

Apart from the charter yachts and there are many of them the seas are dominated by the Austrians and Germans with a number from Slovenia. The Slovenian owned yachts are, on the whole, small and somewhat unusual! Better to sail in something other than not to sail at all!

We were told that the Italians would arrive in force during July and August and this is the case. In fact they are becoming more numerous than the Austrians and Germans and they are noisy. Miggy summed it up by reckoning that Italians do not listen they merely talk or, should we say, shout and all at the same time. We encounter very few English yachts and those that we do are based over here. There has not been the camaraderie between liveaboards that we have experienced in our previous two seasons.

We anchored in thick glutinous mud under the walls of the Roman amphitheatre at Pula. It started to blow quite hard as soon as we started to motor back in the dinghy having shopped at the local. The trouble was that we had moored the dinghy next to what appeared to be a working sewer and the water that gushed into our faces while motoring to windward back to Bella was nothing more than pure sewage! Miggy said that we should laugh about it but I must admit that I wasn’t that amused!

We explored Pula in the comparative cool of the early morning. The town looks disappointingly industrialised from the water with active shipyards and the railway sidings close by but we were pleasantly surprised to see its Roman and Venetian history expressed in fine monuments. Its most significant monument is, of course, the amphitheatre said to be the sixth largest and best preserved in Europe, despite attempts by the Venetians and others to demolish it stone by stone to construct their own buildings.
They did manage to remove most of the inside of the structure and, for that reason, we found it less imposing and interesting than the amphitheatre at El Gem in Tunisia. Interesting also are the first century AD Roman arches and remarkably complete Temple of Romae and Augustus on the site of the former Forum.
The Venetian fort affords fine views over the bay and houses an exhibition of nineteenth and early twentieth century life in Pula under the rule of the Austro Hungarian Empire. Miggy was very taken with a display of an Apothecary of that period.

Our passage to Rovinj took us inside the Brijuni Islands, inhabited since the Palaeolithic era, home of aristocratic Romans and the former summer residence of Marshall Tito. The palace is still used by the Croatian Ministers for entertaining foreign dignitaries. Access to much of the archipelago is restricted, it having been declared a National Park mainly to protect non indigenous animals, including Zebra, brought as gifts to Tito by foreign Heads of State. Native fallow deer, roe deer, peacocks and about 200 species of wild bird exists freely side by side with the non indigenous animals in this ‘Safari Park’.
The sight of deer grazing in open pasture surrounded by forest reminded us of a typical New Forest scene.

Rovinj perches high on a rocky peninsular topped by its Cathedral of St Euphemia and 83 metre high campanile, the design of which was based on its famous predecessor in Venice. We climbed the tower and were rewarded with a superb panorama of the town and the islands out to sea. The town itself is a maze of narrow stone cobbled streets, the narrowness accentuated by the buildings that are, unusually, five stories tall. It is from here that tomorrow we will set sail to Venice.

Central and Northern Dalmatia

2008-07-08T19:00:00.011Z

The Dalmatian Islands of Croatia with their clear turquoise water, sheltered anchorages and charming villages and towns are, without doubt, an outstanding crusing area for yachtsmen. This is borne out by the many charter yachts and owner’s yachts that are sailing here. One wonders however how much longer the sailors on those yachts will be prepared to bear the extortionately high prices of virtually every where before the bubble bursts. The cost of a marina berth for the night is akin to that on the south coast of England and the food is little cheaper and of poorer quality and variation than that one can buy at Tesco in Lymington. Yet the people are paid much less than those in the south of England. The price of a berth for the night on one particular town quay has doubled over the past year and the electricity supply is only turned on from sunset to sunrise and the price of an overnight berth on the town quay at Trogir is £49! An employee of a Chandlery who under measured rope he sold us by 5% when confronted shrugged and said ‘so what’. We are not averse to companies making a reasonable return on their investment but avarice we object to most strongly.

Our departure point on the Island of Brac and the Split archipelago was Milna. Miggy was looking forward to revisiting the place, then a small town where she moored to the quay, which she enjoyed so much 25 years ago. She was desperately disappointed to find a large tourist town with little character and a marina which has taken over the town quay and every other berthing place as well! We have got the moans out of the system now and will go on the happier and more positive things.

We sheltered from near gale conditions for a week in a marina in a place called, surprisingly enough, Marina. It was a true ‘sirocco’ with the wind reaching 45 knots and torrential rain covering the decks with red Sahara sand. Miggy was not at all happy as she had scrubbed the decks the previous day. From Marina we put on our sightseeing hats and took the bus to Trogir and Split.

Trogir, although settled since the Greeks arrived in 380BC prospered from 1420 under Venetian rule. The historic town, quite deservedly a UNESCO World heritage Site, stands on a small Island now linked to the mainland by a bridge. There are many attractive, 12th to 15th century buildings fronting narrow streets and passages but by far the most interesting surround the main square. St Lawrence Cathedral is splendid for, amongst other features, its beautifully carved Romanesque door surround, its 13th century octagonal stone pulpit supported on eight marble columns and the Gothic bell tower, to the top of which we climbed for a magnificent view over the town and surrounding countryside. The strikingly plain Clock Tower with its pavilion roof and the attached 14th century Loggia together with the ornate facade of the Cipiko Palace and the Town Hall with its pretty porticoed courtyard complete the enclosure to the main square.

We hadn’t intended to visit Split as it appeared to be an enormous metropolis which possesses little of interest to us. We are glad that the weather forced us to do so however. The old town centre has grown up around Roman Emperor Diocletian’s vast Palace. He was the first settler of Split in 305AD. Some of the original Roman Palace remains and in particular Diocletian’s mausoleum which was consecrated as the Cathedral in the 7th century. Most of it, however, has been redeveloped over the years under Byzantine, Croat and Venetian rule. It was under the Venetians that the town centre flourished in the 15th century and amongst the typical medieval buildings jostling for position on the narrow twisted streets, many fine buildings of that period remain notably the Town Hall and the Cambi Palace both of which are in the bustling and atmospheric People’s Square. It was great to go to the top of the Campanile built adjacent to the Cathedral during the 12th to the 16th centuries and gaze out over the town spread out beneath us. We had lunch of good pasta and beer in People’s Square very happily watching the chic Split world go round.

Finally the weather was set fair for us to move on north. We had no more than 10 knots of wind from astern but managed a pleasant sail for the couple of hours it took us to get to Rogoznica, or Rogersknickers as it is pronounced in the trade, where we dropped a hook in the mud at U.Stupin. Then disaster struck as the frame of Miggy’s remaining pair of varifocal specs broke, having lost the spare pair, the frames of which snapped earlier, overboard in Stari Grad.

Fortunately we were due to pass the large town of Sibenik, where we found an Optician, on our way to Skradin to visit the Krka waterfalls. The extremely professional and pleasant lady Optician tested Miggy’s eyes and found that her current prescription had altered. It took about two weeks for the best quality German lenses to be delivered and for the two pairs of specs we ordered to be ready, during which we sailed locally in the islands of the Sibenik archipelago. The cost of lenses and frames was about the same as that in UK although the quality of the lenses is probably better and that of the frames certainly is.

We had not intended to visit Sibenik because of the bad press it has in the Pilot Book and adverse comments we have received from those who have been here. All we can say is that they clearly have been no further than the docks. We took the trouble to look and were pleasantly surprised by what we found. The medieval ‘old town’ with its later strong Venetian influence is charming and its centrepiece, the 13th to 14th century Cathedral Sv Jakov, a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its unusual if not unique stone barrel vaulted stone roof, is astounding.

The passage up the narrow steep sided limestone gorges of the Krka River to anchor in fresh water opposite the charming town of Skradin was remarkable. We joined the tourist boat for the twenty minute trip up the Krka River with reeds lining the banks and Swans with their cygnets welcoming us into the Krka National Park and the lower base for the Skradinski Buk, the magnificent and very beautiful waterfalls. A series of footpaths and bridges meander over and around the falls and its ponds and through the forest of Plane, Cypresses and Pines. Flora and fauna abound with 18 species of fish in the quiet shaded pools, frogs croaking loudly in the water meadows and lily ponds, numerous kinds of birds and bats and snakes and reptiles in the bush and stony areas. Our walk in this paradise with its sights sounds and smells was blissful.

In 1895 the falls were harnessed for the production and distribution of the first alternating electric current in the world. It is true that the Hydro-electric plant on Niagara Falls went into operation two days earlier than that at Skradin but it took Niagara another year or so to build the distribution system, so the electricity produced at Skradin actually powered city utilities considerably earlier than that produced at Niagara. A modernized Hydro-electric plant is still in use at the Skradin Falls today.

We spent two weeks in the Sibenik archipelago primarily at anchor in the small harbours and sandy coves of the islands of Zlarin, Prvic, Kaprije and Zakan. These islands have not been overtaken by tourism to any great extent and remain the domain of the indigenous people. They have no motorized transport and only the occasional tractor for deliveries of goods from the regular little ferries. Our time here was relaxing and peaceful and the weather has settled down with gentle to not so gentle sea breezes and clear blue skies out of which however sudden storms may still erupt.
For the second week of our stay in the Sibenik archipelago we were joined by our dear friends from Sway, Ted and Iris Watts, who had chartered a yacht for two weeks, the first to sail with their family and the second to sail in company with us. This time together was a great pleasure for us and the highlight of our season.

Miggy will next broadcast on BBC Radio Solent at approx, 0640 on Thursday 14th August 2008.

Southern Dalmatia

2008-06-08T09:33:00.012Z

In our last blog we did a disservice to Brindisi. The town is a clean thriving town with grand stone paved boulevards full of chic shops and charming back streets and pretty squares. It has for centuries been the port of Italy that serves the Orient and in the nineteenth century the town was a link on the voyage between London and Bombay. Here Caesar engaged in a fierce sea battle with Pompeius and Antonio and Octavianus divided the Roman Empire. Two Roman columns standing tall above the town quay mark the end of the Via Appia, the Roman road from Rome.

Entertainment during our uneventful 125 mile passage to Dubrovnik was provided by many young and extremely playful common Dolphins having great fun jumping and darting to and fro under Bella. The sight of a Peregrine Falcon flying north on two separate occasions also excited us.

The excellent Italian weather forecasts broadcast on the VHF radio continuously in English now give way to very good Croatian VHF radio forecasts and Navtex forecasts from Split radio at least three times a day.

Seen on Augusta, Sicily Navtex a Navigation warning as follows:
Buoy No.204 with coordinates 43°19.8’N 017°36.8’E. Tear itself away from its place. The language of the sea is English but nothing says it has to be the Queen’s English!

Many European nations and. of course, the Tunisians could learn a lot from the Croatian authorities about how to complete entry formalities. The issue of a Vignette, or sailing permit, clearing customs and seeing the Police took less than three quarters of an hour. All we have to show at each harbour or marina from now on is our Vignette and crew list and so no lengthy form filling every time we berth. The Vignette did cost £100 but it is valid for a year!!

Dubrovnik Marina is a very posh affair charging posh prices at 45 euros a night and it is not even high season. In fact most Marinas in Croatia appear to be about this price which rises by 10% or 20% in July and August. The showers were excellent but the laundry and supermarket were not functioning and the swimming pool was not in use. The Marina is however in a superb setting in the gardens of a former Palace with high, steep tree clad slopes all around.

The earliest recorded settlement at Dubrovnik was in the seventh century AD. Since then the town has had a chequered history having been ruled by the Romans, the Venetians, Hungarians and even the French for a while. The town was at its most prosperous during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries when it possessed the third largest fleet in the world. It has suffered destruction from, amongst other things, the earthquake of 1667 and more recently in 1991 when 2000 Serbian shells and missiles fell on the town. Much of the town now dates from the rebuilding after the earthquake and much effort and money has been spent in repairing the war damage in a remarkably short time. I had been here with my father some forty years ago but I can remember little of Dubrovnik’s magnificence. We walked the impressive city walls from whose ramparts and bastions we looked over the harbour, the stately buildings, the red pantiled roofs and the narrow stepped alleyways. We had a beer and sandwich in a cafe on the main street, Stradun, and wondered over the splendour of the place and the warmth of the atmosphere.
Our cruising ground for the spring comprises the southern and central Dalmatian Islands between Dubrovnik and Sibenik some 120 miles to the North West. The distance between the many Islands rarely exceeds 10 miles and so we are in the main well sheltered from the prevailing winds. Having said that the sea breeze can be fresh late on a summer afternoon. The dreaded ‘Bura’, an unpredictable north easterly wind, can literally fall off the mountains behind the coastal belt and blow very strongly as we found out to our chagrin whilst at anchor overnight in an exposed inlet on the tiny Otok Scedro. Still no damage done, just loss of sleep.

The Island landscape is a mixture of barren rock, maquis, forested slopes and some cultivation, particularly in the form of vineyards, all set against the backdrop of the high rocky mountains of the mainland. We have not seen animals on the Islands but the birdsong especially that of the swallow is deafening.

We would need to write a book to describe all the pleasures, places and delights of the Islands we have visited so far and thus we have mentioned just a few of our favourites in the following paragraphs
We will always remember the fresh smell of pine as we sailed into Sipanski Luka, the capital of Otok (Island) Sipan, the largest of the Elaphite Island group just north west of Dubrovnik where we spent a very pleasant night at anchor in the long, sheltered inlet. The Elaphite Islands were so named by the natural historian, Pliny the Elder, after the fallow deer he found there.

The Island of Mjlet is reputed to be one of the most enchanting in the Adriatic and where legend has it that Calypso held Odysseus for seven years. The north western end of Otok Mljet is a national park by reason of its forest of Aleppo pine and Holm oak which grow densely right down to the rocky foreshore. One would have to go a long way to find such a stunning sheltered anchorage as that in which we found ourselves where the peace was broken only by the gentle ripple of blue green water and the calls of Mongeese imported into the Island to rid it of snakes.

The lovely old town of Korcula on the Island of the same name perched as it is on a hill on a small isthmus jutting out into the Peljeski Kanal, is surrounded by 13th century walls reinforced by the Venetians with bastions and towers in the 15th century. It is an enchanting place with a fine Cathedral and other late 15th century buildings. The narrow streets were designed to lessen the effect of the Bura wind. The town was fought over by the Venetians and the Croat Kings and later by the Genoese and the Turks. In a naval battle between the Genoese and the Venetians in 1298, the Genoese captured Marco Polo who is said to be a native of the town.

The principal town on Otok Hvar, named Hvar, is an absolute delight which has been under the control of Byzantines, Romans, the Croatian-Hungarian Kingdom and the Venetians from 1278 to 1797; it was during their long rule that the principal public and sacral buildings were constructed. The Cathedral and its bell tower, the Clock Tower and Civic Loggia and the Bishop’s palace were all built during the 15th and 16th centuries and the large plain, yet handsome, Arsenal surround the town’s beautiful square on three sides, the fourth of which is open to the wonderful harbour in which we anchored. This small town has the feel of Venice and the smell of lavender which covers the Island’s hillsides in blue. We were pleased to see the cruise ship ‘Saga Ruby’ anchor in the roads just outside Hvar. It took nearly all day for her passengers to be ferried to and from her for their guided tour of the town. Liberty boats were plying back and forth endlessly.

Another town of interest on Hvar Island is Stari Grad founded in 384BC by the Greeks, or more accurately the Syracusans, with the name of Pharos. It is the oldest town in Croatia and prior to the middle of the 15th century was the capital of Hvar Island. The small old town is absolutely delightful with stone built houses, a Palace and Monastery built around large squares and narrow streets. The stonework is unusual with random coursing and flush jointing. It is reminiscent of the style we saw in Piriac sur Mer and Pornique in the French Loire-Atlantique.

Excellent quality snowy white stone has been quarried in the Islands since Roman times. Stone from Brac was used for most of the palaces and churches in Venice and for facing the White House in Washington.
The tiny hamlet of Bobovisce on Otok Brac is occupied only by the indigenous people who speak no English. Our mooring on the quay is a very refreshing, peaceful haven. There is one poorly stocked shop whose keeper has to be summoned from her house by ringing a bell, a local Bar and Restaurant on the quayside and not a church in sight. Nobody has asked us for the mooring dues so we guess that the season hasn’t started here yet.

We are so glad to be sailing in these Islands out of season of as we have moorings like this and beautiful anchorages to ourselves whereas in high season we gather things get rather crowded. However, we have been amused by the berthing spectaculars that are staged in the early evening when the sea breeze is at its strongest!

The easy pay as you go internet access from the boat via our mobile and the Italian server TIM has gone and will be replaced by rather patchy and inadequate connection in internet cafes whilst in Croatia. Please forgive, therefore, the possible infrequency of these blogs. We are publishing this blog from the first WiFi connection we have come across in Croatia in this tiny Island of Prvic just offshore from Sibenik. We will be heading North tomorrow and will publish the next episode about Central Dalmatia and the Split/Trogir area when we next have good access.

Our Croatian mobile number has changed to: +385 99 50 96 64 3