Crew
Skippers: Ray, Ronnie, Declan and John Navigators and GPS fiddlers: All the above Anchor men: All the above again Chief IT Officer and Ships Photographer: Declan 1st (and only) mates: Aine, Jenny and Betty Purser: Betty Adjudicator and Awarder of Records and Resident Reflexologist: Aine Log Keeper: Jenny Absent with leave (but sorely missed): Kate
Regaled with stories of blue skies and sun, skippers and crew safely arrived at Dublin airport in good time for flight to Athens. IT officer’s bag threatened to dislocate Aine’s and Jenny’s shoulders as they attempted to move it for him!
No people movers at Athens Airport, so 2 taxis raced towards Cap de Sounion and the Hotel Saron; drivers offering differing advice on the weather forecast for the coming days. Clean, if basic, rooms over-looking the pool provided good firm beds. Excellent starters and good mains were served with a smile by our Kurdish waiter who persuaded the purser to try the €70/kg fish. She assured us the two little sardines were worth it, (Same fish on offer for €14.50 /kg next day in market!!). Fish eaters be aware!
An adequate breakfast set us up to venture into the torrential rain. When taxis failed to materialise, hotel staff provided transport in personal car and pick-up truck. Vernicos Yachting, our charter company, was housed in a rickety container on a scruffy pier. A canopy provided partial shelter for the luggage. Our allotted boat, a 2008 Beneteau Oceanis 43, had been given to AN Other, and despite protestation, we were given the 3 year old Barbera, a Cyclades 43.4. Ronnie’s blackberry proved useful in ensuring Cosmos were made fully aware of our change in circumstances given the premium charged for a “new” boat. Barbera’s owner, Janis, did his best to cope with worries re leaking fore hatch, broken lights, missing sheets etc. and slid spectacularly down the plank in his haste to help. Shopping for staples was successful at a local supermarket which delivered our goods and Ray to the pier in an ancient van. John managed to smuggle on local hooch in plastic bottles despite Betty’s best attempts.
With damp luggage stowed, having been advised by locals to avoid Porto Rafti, we set out motoring in force 6-7 and incessant rain - Walshes and Declan being convinced they had been duped as all huddled in as many clothes as could be found.
Brave Betty hung on in her corner until the seas reduced a little in the shelter of the invisible rain-shrouded island.
Arrived in Karistos at 7:30 as rain finally stopped. 2 skippers and assorted crew negotiated stern-to mooring with anchor holding on 2nd attempt. Water and power available on the pier. Tokens needed for power but thanks to previous occupant we didn’t need one – just as well as shop was shut.
Excellent restaurant, Cave D’Oro recommended in “the book”. Our US/Greek host displayed his extensive menu, (stuffed peppers voted best) and our first island meal set a high standard.
(Here beginneth the first day of the thirtieth year in the saga of Romantic Ronnie and Aggrieved Aine)
We awoke to a tiny patch of blue sky after a night disturbed, for stern cabin crew, by several herds of fender cattle, rattling rat brackets, and roaring rope rubbers. New initiates dispersed to experience the delights of the dry, if over-cast town. John and Betty, returning from Mass, persuaded Ray to taste the Holy Ashes pressed on them by a local penitent. In response to this act of piety, the skies cleared and we set our sails (flags to Betty) to head for Gavrion on Andros (or, to gut focussed John, Gaviscon in Andrex).
Lulled into a sense of safety in the lee of the island, the girls took their pre-lunch tipple on the foredeck where they were served chilled white wine by dumb waiter(s). Dutifully sitting on the windward side, they were suddenly slashed with sail and sheets. John grabbed a battered Betty with such force that most of the wine went to the fish, but eschewing the safety of shrouds or stanchions, she held onto the empty bottle, being unsure of the etiquette with regards to the disposal of rubbish at sea! Agile Aine managed to retain a full glass of wine despite the onslaught.
Biggish seas and force 6-7 wind reduced sails to a ¾ Genny and 1 reef in the main. This did not prevent John, carefully monitored by the adjudicator, reaching 9.4 knots to great excitement. His prowess was quickly dashed when daring Declan pushed this up to 9.9 knots – a costly record dutifully paid out on that evening!
Safely berthed side–on between the ferry piers, we rode their wash as they came and went with some frequency. Anxious men monitored the fenders, but, despite the boy-racer approach of some ferrymen, we held fast. Restless Ray hired a canary coloured Atos (€30), and Jenny and he explored the island. On return, they discovered the rest of the crew in a disturbing state of inebriation despite Declan’s declaration that he doesn’t really drink. (These anniversary celebrations led the way to what was to become a regular evening reception on board).
Shepherding the unruly lot ashore with difficulty, we tried a local eatery that had at least 2 people eating there (the book recommendations being either obsolete or empty).The meal did not reach the standard to which we had already become accustomed, and as Aggrieved Aine’s flowers had still failed to materialise, a small cake was provided. Using sign language, gentlemanly John persuaded the En Gavrio Ouzeri’s delightful owner to provide a candle. Reluctant, Romantic Ronnie was dragged in from outside (where he had been communing with a tree) to sit with his wife. The Ouzeri restored faith in “the book”. Amidst a delightful treasure trove of collector’s items, Aine (still flowerless) invented hot chocolate with brandy, which loosened the lips and conversation deteriorated accordingly!
Hot chocolate and brandy was deemed to be the ultimate in soporific pleasures by those who had indulged; the rest of us slept better thanks to ear-plugs! Fresh fish was on display during breakfast, being dumped from the nets of the local boats onto the quay. A particularly enormous specimen was hauled out from the depths beneath the boats by a colourful local fishwife. Having watched the catch being “washed” in the water contaminated from the outflow of the boats we decided to stick with more traditional fare. Sun topped women appeared on deck for the first time, as even Jenny jettisoned her jumper in the weak sun that struggled through a cloudy sky. Having obtained ice at the local garage, we set out for Tinos. Unfortunately the wind, having failed to disperse the cloud cover, retired hurt, and Ladies Day saw helming without sails.
Stopping for lunch in a sheltered cove on Andros’s barren shoreline, snorkelors saw a little colourful fish life. Daring Declan doused on deck to the delight of the lunch makers (but don’t worry Kate – he kept his privates semi-private). Ferry wash and wasps made for a lively lunch. Deck-scrubbing Declan earned brownie points, while Genius John repaired the plumbing below decks. With competition for berths at Tinos in the offing, Brave Betty’s first helming unassisted by autopilot ensured that we raced the competition into the harbour. Desperate Declan seized the (almost) last spot with some difficulty as the anchor chain was several meters shorter than expected. With repeated rope throwing to helpful Germans and whistle blowing Greek Hells Angel harbour man, we managed to achieve our stern-to berth. The muscley biker extracted €7 for a waterless, powerless berth.
Our pre-dinner reception was somewhat dwarfed by that aboard our towering neighbour where dicky-bowed waiters provided the drinks. Books agreed on the Taverna Pallada, discovered in the winding paved back-streets to the left of the dolphin fountain. (finding the dolphins before the taverna probably shortens the journey).Starters served by sour-faced staff were good but mains were variable. Smiles from staff were hard won, only 2 being achieved despite endless flattery; however complimentary desert and lemoncello was appreciated!
Hot choc. and brandy addicts demanded their fix, which was provided in water-front café at considerable cost. Serenading Poles eventually slipped anchor during the night without snagging our chain as they had warned they might.
Betty and John made an early morning pilgrimage to the Church on the hill, and, although they didn’t crawl as is required, they obviously obtained absolution as the sun blazed down for the first time. After the rest of the crew had made the same journey to the ornate church, bedecked with silver lamps hung with tokens varying from monkey wrenches to jet fighters, we departed for Syros (Jenny again jumpered due to a persistent cloud that followed us most of the way.) Blessed again with sun by lunch time, we anchored in Vari, where dingy driver Declan drove the ladies to the beach while Ray hunted (unsuccessfully) for kalamari he had met there last year. Swimming in warm water over myriad tropical fish created an appetite. Reckless Ronnie rammed the boat with the rib before returning to the beach for the girls, then improved on this routine by rowing backwards with wet bum raised (obviously some posture of apology from an ancient Greek ritual).
Racing with a catamaran, we reached Finnikas and achieved holding on the anchor on the 3rd attempt. A distance of at least 40 metres out is required for stern-to mooring. No apparent fixed lines available. Water and power available after Jenny exchanged kisses with Gorgeous George an old acquaintance from last years chartering. (Had to pay €7.50 as well later.) Gents drooled as lightly clad ladies’ retreating rears added to the scenery.
A foray round the seafront revealed several possible eateries; Foradhenes, the 2nd on the left providing an excellent range of starters. Ravenous Ronnie and Ray were unable to cope with a “starters only” choice and added Gipsy Fillets and Drunken Moon to the order. Rowdy, thigh–slapping Germans entertained despite our inability to understand their jokes. Aine’s unintentional chastising of them for lack of manners added to their hilarity on the way back to the boat. Ronnie and John held a candle lit reception on return, but they failed to attract any ladies; lightly clad or otherwise.
Breakfasting in the sun, jumpers again jettisoned. John manned the mop as decks were scrubbed, Declan being on a photographic mission. Discerning ducks declined offer of emergency bread. Departing neighbours raised our anchor chain which our 3 attempts had laid over theirs. Sails were raised, but wily wind immediately moved to the bow and so we motored again. Basking Betty enjoyed the first day of balmy winds on the fore deck. Reaching Kithnos at around 2pm, we moored in a sandy cove, anchor holding on first drop. After a variety of water entries captured on camera, swimmers explored the almost deserted village where only lizards loitered.
Having lunched on hot pies and cold beers, we changed course to head for Loutra. The wind did the same so sails remained furled. Pilot Book recommended avoiding the extremely crowded harbour, and mooring near the recommended taverna in the cove to the southeast of the bay. Anchoring in the idyllic setting, Declan rowed ashore and tied off on bollards on the north side of the cove. Ray having ascertained that we had ½ a meter of depth below the keel, Ronnie and Declan, with gay abandon, hurled a second anchor from the dingy on the windward side, creating a delightful display of coiled rope and confused, up-ended anchor on the seabed. This was kindly done to allow Restless Ray to dive down and fix it. Resulting water in his ears caused a convenient deafness, despite the ministratrations of our resident reflexologist. Papparazzi style, dingy-man Declan ensured that our position was recorded for posterity.
Having deposited Betty and John ashore to assess the taverna, Declan, Aine and Jenny set off for Loutra by sea to shop. The outboard objected and cut out frequently. Eventually reaching the beach, Deft Declan leapt to land, only to be displaced violently by a wave. Aine and Declan bathed their feet in the “Spermal Thaw” at the end of the beach –Assertive Aine daring to displace a German who had forgotten to leave her towel behind while taking a break! Genial John checked out the taverna scene in the harbour while Betty and Jenny sourced the goodies for the evening reception in the two supermarkets at the end of the pier. The evening’s reception, hosted by the (newly- appointed) Ambassador John, was interrupted by the late arrival of “the blue boat” whose repeated attempts to drop their anchor over ours took place under the watchful (and intimidating?) eyes of Ray and Ronnie.
Dedicated dingyman Declan made repeated trips to ferry all crew to Aria’s Taverna at the head of the cove where the artistic, temperamental, and scantily clad owner provided a mediocre meal. Thanks to quick thinking shoppers, the usual night caps were served on board.
Restless Ray began the day with a dip as the sun defied a forecast of rain. Declan ferried Jenny to the shops where the price of matches was inflated by the inclusion of free fresh basil and a postcard by the gently persuasive shopkeeper.
Ferrying continued after breakfast to get all hands to the shore for exploration of the island. Bathing belles basked in the thermal spa, while fish romped around in the hot water flowing into a wave-lapped pool. Nicely cooked, with their departure pressurised by waiting Germans, the ladies agreed to return to the boat. Dramatic effects Declan created a smoke screen ensuring that only Ray glimpsed the artist’s James Bond style bikini as she stepped from the shallows.
Bountiful Betty toiled tirelessly below decks to ensure that the kitty tallied, while Jumpered Jenny fought a losing battle with a shy sun. The balmy wind (as ever on the nose) continued to prevent us raising sails. Racing several boats into busy Korissia, we managed a neat stern-to mooring to the lively quay.
Neatly placed, just a few yards from the recommended restaurant, Apothiki, the final reception for John and Betty was held with the BA crew member from next door acting as official photographer. Good starters in the restaurant as always, but a rapid degeneration in standards achieved as discerning Declan’s meal disappointed and staff became increasingly unhelpful in providing a replacement. A wander through the narrow, paved back-streets brought us to a comfy café, where nightcaps were capped by delicious chocolate ice-cream on a waffle base. A young, naïve US journalist may have regretted his request to join us as he took on our diplomatic corps in an attempt to prove that the rest of the world must definitely be wrong. His blind faith in “the American Way” was unnerving. Those who returned early to bed missed the dramatic lightening and thunder that caused a drenched Declan to race back to the boat to raise the bimini, only to find it already up.
Early risers bade farewell to Betty and John as they set out for sunny Syros, and their company was missed by all on our last day aboard. After a wander in the very pretty back-streets of Korissia, Restless Ray procured another tiny, fluorescent vehicle and drove the remaining crew up to the Hora on the hill. Barren terraces dropped precipitously away on all sides, with small shrines marking the spots, at regular intervals, where others hadn’t made it round the hairpin bends. Laden mules plodded up and down the steep, narrow streets amongst the bougainvillea laden buildings.
Returning for a lunch of left-overs, voracious harbour fish obliged by devouring the emergency bread. With winds gusting to 14 knots, we set sails, finally managing to fool the wind into shifting slightly off the nose, and sailed gently almost the whole way to Lavrio. Slipping sadly into one of the last available berths, Declan deftly hooked the laid line while redoubtable Ronnie accomplished a perfect mooring, carefully monitored by Vernicos’ George. Their diver immediately checked us out as fuel was supplied (69 litres @€90) by tanker.
We were invited by our Swiss neighbours aboard their catamaran which had failed to please as the main sail was faulty. (N.B. Always check the sails fully before leaving on the first day) Very spacious with 2 fridges(!) but, in their view, not a real sailing holiday.
A rather low key reception was held in the absence of the Honourables, as a final offer of €300 compensation came in from Cosmos. Dinner was discovered in Reras fish restaurant where the smiling, chatty host displayed a limited range of fish that did not break poor Kitty. Jenny took a chance (unlikely to be repeated) on fresh Kalamari that came complete with all its bits, most of which did not wish to be detached. With Ice-cream cones in hand, we beat a hasty retreat as thunder heralded the next storm. Hot chocs, that were not the same without Betty’s wrist action, were downed to the rapping of heavy rain which brought us, full circle, to the end of an exceptional holiday. Thigh-slapping Germans could be heard in the distance through ear-plugs as we drifted off to sleep for one last night on Barbera.
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