Saronikós Kólpos, Kólpos Ídhras & Argolikós Kólpos
Saronikós Kólpos
Nísos Póros, Navy Bay
Thursday June 15 - Sunday 18 55nm, 8hrs 30min
Anchored in 15m
Thursday June 15 - Sunday 18 55nm, 8hrs 30min
Anchored in 15m
Thursday the alarm went off at 0515 and, knowing we were in for a long day of motoring, we were weighing anchor half an hour later. Fortunately there wasn’t a breath of wind so it was a calm journey, and we were lucky enough to encounter three pods of playful dolphins on our journey.
Entering the channel for the last time we made our way to our usual anchorage in Navy Bay and dropped the pick in 15m. As always it held fast.
In town we were able to buy another phone package with unlimited data to see us through. It was quick and easy, which is not at all what we expected, and we were very grateful. Connected again, oh what a feeling!
Revisiting some of our favourite spots we had truffle and cheese pizza at Seranità, and finished the evening at Vessalá, makers of the best ice cream in Greece. They had a new flavour, pomegranate and chocolate, which I had to try. The girl serving us, who we’ve gotten to know a little from so many visits, suggested a half and half mix with their divine pistachio. It was a perfect combination. So perfect we had the same the next two nights.
Friday evening we ate at Oasis, where in 2019 we had seen a man sitting with his puppy in the laneway in front of his jewellery shop which runs between the two eating sections of Oasis. We hadn’t seen him sitting out there this trip, but Colin spotted him leaving the shop. When he returned I asked about Mickey and he said he’d be there the next day between 1000 and 1400.
Saturday after an appalling loss by the Dockers to GWS we headed in to see Mickey. Sure enough, there was man and dog, but sitting in the shade outside the shop and not near the sidewalk. I showed him the photo we took in 2019 and we had a chat. He called his wife from inside the shop and she introduced herself and thanked us for coming to say hello. Her name was Eléni, his name was Marínos, and the fluffy white star of the show was Mickey. As in 2019, Marínos warmed when we talked about his sweet little pooch.
Yesterday and today we witnessed one of the “2wayferries” powering into Navy Bay, taking the most direct route to its destination seemingly without any regard for the yachts anchored. Both days some boats got spooked by how incredibly close it came to them, and it promptly weighed anchor and moved out of its return path. Colin thought the captain was making a point, and you certainly pay attention when a point is being made by a 8500 tonne ferry.
For our last night in Póros we ate at Geia Mas. We’d been undecided, but as we passed it during the day the lovely waitress had asked where we’d been and came over to chat with us. We said we’d return for dinner, and although we weren’t in her section we said a fond farewell afterwards.
Click images to enlarge
Entering the channel for the last time we made our way to our usual anchorage in Navy Bay and dropped the pick in 15m. As always it held fast.
In town we were able to buy another phone package with unlimited data to see us through. It was quick and easy, which is not at all what we expected, and we were very grateful. Connected again, oh what a feeling!
Revisiting some of our favourite spots we had truffle and cheese pizza at Seranità, and finished the evening at Vessalá, makers of the best ice cream in Greece. They had a new flavour, pomegranate and chocolate, which I had to try. The girl serving us, who we’ve gotten to know a little from so many visits, suggested a half and half mix with their divine pistachio. It was a perfect combination. So perfect we had the same the next two nights.
Friday evening we ate at Oasis, where in 2019 we had seen a man sitting with his puppy in the laneway in front of his jewellery shop which runs between the two eating sections of Oasis. We hadn’t seen him sitting out there this trip, but Colin spotted him leaving the shop. When he returned I asked about Mickey and he said he’d be there the next day between 1000 and 1400.
Saturday after an appalling loss by the Dockers to GWS we headed in to see Mickey. Sure enough, there was man and dog, but sitting in the shade outside the shop and not near the sidewalk. I showed him the photo we took in 2019 and we had a chat. He called his wife from inside the shop and she introduced herself and thanked us for coming to say hello. Her name was Eléni, his name was Marínos, and the fluffy white star of the show was Mickey. As in 2019, Marínos warmed when we talked about his sweet little pooch.
Yesterday and today we witnessed one of the “2wayferries” powering into Navy Bay, taking the most direct route to its destination seemingly without any regard for the yachts anchored. Both days some boats got spooked by how incredibly close it came to them, and it promptly weighed anchor and moved out of its return path. Colin thought the captain was making a point, and you certainly pay attention when a point is being made by a 8500 tonne ferry.
For our last night in Póros we ate at Geia Mas. We’d been undecided, but as we passed it during the day the lovely waitress had asked where we’d been and came over to chat with us. We said we’d return for dinner, and although we weren’t in her section we said a fond farewell afterwards.
Click images to enlarge
Dolphins
Kólpos Ídhras
Nisís Dhokós, Órmos Skíntou
Sunday June 18 - Wednesday 21
3nm, 1hr 20min to Órmos Monastiríou, Nisos Póros
18nm, 3hrs to Órmos Skíntou, Nisís Dhokós
Anchored in sand in 10m
Sunday June 18 - Wednesday 21
3nm, 1hr 20min to Órmos Monastiríou, Nisos Póros
18nm, 3hrs to Órmos Skíntou, Nisís Dhokós
Anchored in sand in 10m
Sunday we woke to church bells. Navy Bay is always full of sound, and not just from boats who like everyone in the bay to hear their music. There are the roosters that start before dawn, the navy who do drills in the early morning and evening, the tower clock telling us the time, and the prolonged bells ringing out on a Sunday. There’s not much chance of a sleep in. I do love waking up to roosters though.
The thunder and lightening and torrential rain started as soon as we weighed anchor, and we’d barely made it out of the channel when the motor ceased. No warning, it just stopped dead. I figured Colin would just nip downstairs and quickly fix it, as is his wont, but he didn’t. It felt like forever that we drifted, within an uncomfortable distance of Boúrtzi Island, until Colin had silently reeled through the options and settled on a plan. Hoist the sails, find safe anchor, and then try to fix the motor.
Órmos Monastiríou was less than a mile away but as there was barely a breath of wind it took us an hour to sail there. Meanwhile the captain was perfectly calm. Clearly he wasn’t having the same visions as the first mate of being smashed against the rocks of Boúrtzi Island.
As anticipated, once the 'Lass' was safely anchored Colin was able to fix the problem, a fuel blockage, and we were on our way again by 1300hrs. Ahhh the joys of cruising.
Arriving in Órmos Skintou around 1400hrs we sailed straight to our usual spot in the SW of the bay and dropped the pick. The bay was almost empty with only one or two boats near us and a handful over at the more populated east side.
Monday morning was a glass off. Perfect for paddle boarding. As I was on my usual mission of collecting hagstones our first stop was the pebbly beach. Just as we were launching the SUPs we saw a man from the 52m super motor yacht 'Vertigo' on the beach. He was setting up sun loungers and umbrellas for the guests. As we approached, a dinghy arrived from another super motor yacht to also set up shade for guests. I saw he was collecting rubbish from the beach and I told him we do the same every time we come here. I suppose the difference is we don’t have to do it for paying customers. One of the guys off 'Vertigo' had a scoop net for the floating rubbish. Maybe they want their guests to think Greek bays are clean.
Feeling a little like flies at a wedding we quickly scoured the beach, picked up a few stones and a bit of rubbish, and moved around to the next beach leaving them to it.
Tuesday was another millpond morning, and we were lucky enough to see two turtles surfacing for air. It gave me extra motivation to jump straight in and collect some floating plastic. Colin joked they’d be cursing me for taking their breakfast. I certainly won’t miss the inordinate amount of rubbish in the bays of Greece, and the worry over how much plastic the poor turtles and other animals must be ingesting.
There was a catamaran anchored in the third beach as we paddled around to explore. I had seen that the young crew had bathers on so I thought it was safe to look as I passed the stern. I was telling this to Colin once we'd paddled out of there, and he seemed to sum up my thoughts quite neatly, as you can see in his guest blog below:
The thunder and lightening and torrential rain started as soon as we weighed anchor, and we’d barely made it out of the channel when the motor ceased. No warning, it just stopped dead. I figured Colin would just nip downstairs and quickly fix it, as is his wont, but he didn’t. It felt like forever that we drifted, within an uncomfortable distance of Boúrtzi Island, until Colin had silently reeled through the options and settled on a plan. Hoist the sails, find safe anchor, and then try to fix the motor.
Órmos Monastiríou was less than a mile away but as there was barely a breath of wind it took us an hour to sail there. Meanwhile the captain was perfectly calm. Clearly he wasn’t having the same visions as the first mate of being smashed against the rocks of Boúrtzi Island.
As anticipated, once the 'Lass' was safely anchored Colin was able to fix the problem, a fuel blockage, and we were on our way again by 1300hrs. Ahhh the joys of cruising.
Arriving in Órmos Skintou around 1400hrs we sailed straight to our usual spot in the SW of the bay and dropped the pick. The bay was almost empty with only one or two boats near us and a handful over at the more populated east side.
Monday morning was a glass off. Perfect for paddle boarding. As I was on my usual mission of collecting hagstones our first stop was the pebbly beach. Just as we were launching the SUPs we saw a man from the 52m super motor yacht 'Vertigo' on the beach. He was setting up sun loungers and umbrellas for the guests. As we approached, a dinghy arrived from another super motor yacht to also set up shade for guests. I saw he was collecting rubbish from the beach and I told him we do the same every time we come here. I suppose the difference is we don’t have to do it for paying customers. One of the guys off 'Vertigo' had a scoop net for the floating rubbish. Maybe they want their guests to think Greek bays are clean.
Feeling a little like flies at a wedding we quickly scoured the beach, picked up a few stones and a bit of rubbish, and moved around to the next beach leaving them to it.
Tuesday was another millpond morning, and we were lucky enough to see two turtles surfacing for air. It gave me extra motivation to jump straight in and collect some floating plastic. Colin joked they’d be cursing me for taking their breakfast. I certainly won’t miss the inordinate amount of rubbish in the bays of Greece, and the worry over how much plastic the poor turtles and other animals must be ingesting.
There was a catamaran anchored in the third beach as we paddled around to explore. I had seen that the young crew had bathers on so I thought it was safe to look as I passed the stern. I was telling this to Colin once we'd paddled out of there, and he seemed to sum up my thoughts quite neatly, as you can see in his guest blog below:
Guest blog from Captain Colin
We went for our morning SUP for Nic to say goodbye to her dear Hagstones. There was no dilly dallying or tears as she dropped them on the beach and then hurriedly encouraged us on our way around to explore the next little bay. There was a catamaran anchored and we paddled toward it. As we approached the stern we realised there was a naked man in the dinghy playing with the outboard motor. When he saw Nic he bent forward to attempt to start the motor, giving Nic a perfect “Hello Boys” view of his sticky date pudding and meat and two veg. To top it off at the same time he pulled the starter cord he let off a cracking fart, then I’m sure his mate said, “A bit more choke and that would have started!”
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Later in the day a number of yachts anchored stern to on the west side of the bay. We’ve never seen yachts on that side before, but once we found out they were part of “The Yacht Week” we realised why they would place themselves away from any other boats.* We were happy they did. Mind you, it still sounded like the disco was on our boat as we went off to bed.
The Yacht Week (from https://www.theyachtweek.com/)
Welcome to the best week of your life. This is The Yacht Week - the original floating festival. Seven days of sailing, exploring picturesque pockets of the world and dancing the night away with hundreds of other like-minded travellers. You’ll have your own skipper and the freedom to map your own path through stunning islands and incredible parties. Each day will vary, depending on the itinerary. You normally spend your day chilling on the yacht sailing from one port to another with a stop in a bay to cook lunch and have a swim. There will be a The Yacht Week party or event each day too, perhaps a circle raft or a party/activity once you arrive at the next island.
Click images to enlarge
The Yacht Week (from https://www.theyachtweek.com/)
Welcome to the best week of your life. This is The Yacht Week - the original floating festival. Seven days of sailing, exploring picturesque pockets of the world and dancing the night away with hundreds of other like-minded travellers. You’ll have your own skipper and the freedom to map your own path through stunning islands and incredible parties. Each day will vary, depending on the itinerary. You normally spend your day chilling on the yacht sailing from one port to another with a stop in a bay to cook lunch and have a swim. There will be a The Yacht Week party or event each day too, perhaps a circle raft or a party/activity once you arrive at the next island.
Click images to enlarge
Argolikós Kólpos
Nísos Spétses, Órmos Zogeriás
Wednesday June 21 - Thursday 22 13nm, 2hrs 45min
Anchored in sand in 7m
Wednesday June 21 - Thursday 22 13nm, 2hrs 45min
Anchored in sand in 7m
Wednesday morning I was once again enjoying the water being so calm and clear we could see the anchor behind the stern and the 'Lass' sitting on a small arc of chain under the bow.
Managing a good bit of sailing and a wee bit of motoring we arrived in the beautiful bay of Zogeriás, in the NW of Spétses, and anchored just before the crowds arrived. We saw another turtle whilst sailing. Always so special and exciting.
We hadn’t seen any Australian flags in the bay, and then we heard, “You’re a (insert expletive here) moron!” issuing forth in a strong, unmistakably Aussie accent. We later met the owner of said accent, Craig from SV Khamsin*, when he came over to say hello. He explained he'd been trying to deter a yacht from dropping their pick right over his anchor chain, and that he was a magnet for dickheads. Colin commiserated and told him he's not alone, for we are also a magnet for such types. Craig also mentioned there were other Aussies on their way in SV Lemonade.
Thursday we met the crew on SV Lemonade as we headed to land. Michelle, Marco, Mia, and Mason bought the boat two years ago and are living the dream, home schooling the kids (who are 9 and 6) while they sail the Mediterranean. Finally someone (Mia) was able to tell me what makes that mysterious bird call I’ve been trying to work out since Páros. I recognised it from the intro to the Kula Shaker song Govinda, and took sounds bites to try and figure it out. Why a bird call app can’t identify peacocks is beyond me. “Smart Bird ID” is not as smart as Mia, and it nothing to do with the quality of my recordings.
I thought the peacocks might be living in the ruins on shore so we went hunting, and sure enough, there they were along with a number of peahens. Also there were some Chukar Partridges. I wouldn’t know one from a bar of burfords, even though I did have a beautiful partridge in a pear tree that my aunty gave me one Christmas, so I was interested to find out that’s what it was. One seemed to be a lookout as it sat on a rock overlooking a field, chattering away in what I assume was a warning to the other partridges who all promptly scattered. The bird has a striking wing pattern, but as I couldn’t get close enough for a decent photo I included one from the internet.
*Khamsin (also spelled Khamseen or Chamsin) is the hot, dry, dusty wind in North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula that blows from the south or southeast in late winter and early spring.
Click images to enlarge
Managing a good bit of sailing and a wee bit of motoring we arrived in the beautiful bay of Zogeriás, in the NW of Spétses, and anchored just before the crowds arrived. We saw another turtle whilst sailing. Always so special and exciting.
We hadn’t seen any Australian flags in the bay, and then we heard, “You’re a (insert expletive here) moron!” issuing forth in a strong, unmistakably Aussie accent. We later met the owner of said accent, Craig from SV Khamsin*, when he came over to say hello. He explained he'd been trying to deter a yacht from dropping their pick right over his anchor chain, and that he was a magnet for dickheads. Colin commiserated and told him he's not alone, for we are also a magnet for such types. Craig also mentioned there were other Aussies on their way in SV Lemonade.
Thursday we met the crew on SV Lemonade as we headed to land. Michelle, Marco, Mia, and Mason bought the boat two years ago and are living the dream, home schooling the kids (who are 9 and 6) while they sail the Mediterranean. Finally someone (Mia) was able to tell me what makes that mysterious bird call I’ve been trying to work out since Páros. I recognised it from the intro to the Kula Shaker song Govinda, and took sounds bites to try and figure it out. Why a bird call app can’t identify peacocks is beyond me. “Smart Bird ID” is not as smart as Mia, and it nothing to do with the quality of my recordings.
I thought the peacocks might be living in the ruins on shore so we went hunting, and sure enough, there they were along with a number of peahens. Also there were some Chukar Partridges. I wouldn’t know one from a bar of burfords, even though I did have a beautiful partridge in a pear tree that my aunty gave me one Christmas, so I was interested to find out that’s what it was. One seemed to be a lookout as it sat on a rock overlooking a field, chattering away in what I assume was a warning to the other partridges who all promptly scattered. The bird has a striking wing pattern, but as I couldn’t get close enough for a decent photo I included one from the internet.
*Khamsin (also spelled Khamseen or Chamsin) is the hot, dry, dusty wind in North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula that blows from the south or southeast in late winter and early spring.
Click images to enlarge
Mílos by Sarah
Meanwhile, while we were relaxing in Spétses my niece, Sarah, was enjoying Mílos. She allowed me to feature some of her fabulous photos.
Click images to enlarge
Click images to enlarge
Pórto Héli
Wednesday June 21 - Thursday 22 3nm, 45min
Anchored in 6m, sand and clay bottom
Wednesday June 21 - Thursday 22 3nm, 45min
Anchored in 6m, sand and clay bottom
Thursday we weighed anchor after lunch, and motored the whole 3nm to Pórto Héli where we anchored in our usual spot in the middle of the bay. It doesn’t reduce the noise from the all-night beach bar disco, but it reduces the chances of being anchored on top of by a dickhead. We grabbed a quick gýros in the evening then dropped in to buy more ceramics from my favourite lady at my favourite shop, Mouseío. As the evening would not be complete without ice-cream we tried our luck with the pistachio at Drougas Bakery and were happy with the result. It’s no Vessalá, but it’ll do.
Friday we got the Port Authority check in out of the way first up. The grumpy bloke who was the only one to ever ask for Colin’s yachting qualifications was actually quite genial and helpful, and once finished with the official business he started to chat to us about Australia and the kind of weather we’d be going back to, and where we’d be holidaying during the Aussie summer. It was a curious change in the man.
Following our tradition, the check in was followed by breakfast at Drougas; a bougátsa and freddo espresso for me and a ham and cheese croissant and cappuccino for Colin. The lady behind the counter in the bakery gave me a big “Kaliméra” and a high five. I love when people remember us and are warm and friendly. With a cheeky smile she’s been helping me speak better Greek, and she knew exactly what I wanted. without me having to ask. She spoke to me in Greek, as did the girl at the counter, which I also loved because usually I get spoken to in English regardless of whether I speak Greek to start with or not. I can understand why though. I don’t understand a lot of Greek, I can just speak certain sentences convincingly, although sometimes not so convincingly.
Colin made enquiries last night at the dive shop as to whether they would buy back the dive tank we bought there in 2019 and they asked him to bring it in after midday, so we returned to the boat in-between and dug out the ol’ Dolly Trolley for her last journey. I’d say she only just lasted for that final duty, and Colin put her to rest in the bins on the way back to the dinghy. I asked in the shop if they would be interested in the dive weights as well, and we returned with them in the evening. We got €30 for the tank and €15 for the weights. Heaps better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Revisiting our favourite restaurants we returned to Flísvos Taverna. It had been a real treat last year when we ate there with Elaine, and the staff - George, the owner, Melissa, his wife, and Christína, his sister - were all as sweet and friendly as we remembered them. We tried something different and had two delicious traditional dishes that were specials of the day. Christína also spoke a little Greek to me, and I was happy I understood some of it and could reply in Greek.
Before dinner we’d passed a crepe and waffle café that had a sign for hand-made ice-cream, so we stopped to check the legitimacy of it. The young man said his father made it, so we returned after dinner to try some. The father was there, but before we could even ask for ice cream he held up a tray of báklava and boasted it was the best in Greece and we had to have some. We said we'd get some to take away, but that we wanted an ice-cream. Many one-way conversations and lengthy explanations followed, mostly in Greek, about how his skills were passed down from his grandfather to his father, and his father to him, but the ice-cream was at best disappointing, as was the báklava when we ate it the following night, so we suspect what was handed down was the art of bullshit and salesmanship. Kudos to him though for being a master of his art. He sold us a sweet we didn’t want and ice-cream we didn’t like, and that was even after a taste test! There’s just no hope for some suckers.
Colin and I had decided we wanted to buy another pot at Mouseío for our neighbour, and while there I asked Colin for permission to buy a coffee cup to remind me of our travels. He’s been clamping down on what he considers unnecessary purchases, not because of cost, but because of our limited baggage allowance flying home. (It’s the reason we were buying our neighbour a little pot instead of a litre of ouzo). However, not only did he sanction it, he told me to get one for him too!
Saturday we cleaned the boat inside and out in preparation for an inspection. While at Sýros we decided it’s a good time to sell our beloved Loch Fyne Lass. We love Greece and the other countries we’ve travelled to, but our plans of revisiting Turkey are now unfeasible due to 100% inflation and exorbitant price hikes, and the longer term plan of sailing to Scotland via the Strait of Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay seems rather unlikely since the captain’s realisation that the first mate is a fair-weather sailor.
As Colin cleaned the hull a turtle surfaced not far from him. I hollered but he didn’t hear me. Still always so special to see. We’d also seen one as we left the pier yesterday.
After Mum read about me returning the rocks in Dhókos she messaged me, and the following conversation ensued:
Mum: We enjoyed getting into your latest addition on the webpage, you were very brave letting go of the hag stones, is that a new rule they’ve made?
Me: No, it’s because I collected so many I don’t have enough baggage allowance to bring them all home!!
Mum: That doesn’t seem right I think you should have words with the captain
Me: I’ve spoken to him, and he said the captain’s word is final, and that he doesn’t appreciate his mother-in-law’s meddling, and that if you want your daughter back safe you’ll mind your own beeswax, though he realises this position doesn’t give him a lot of leverage
Mum: I’m disappointed the captain’s not up for negotiation
Me: You can try your luck when we call
Mum: I do want you back safely sweetheart
Click images to enlarge
Friday we got the Port Authority check in out of the way first up. The grumpy bloke who was the only one to ever ask for Colin’s yachting qualifications was actually quite genial and helpful, and once finished with the official business he started to chat to us about Australia and the kind of weather we’d be going back to, and where we’d be holidaying during the Aussie summer. It was a curious change in the man.
Following our tradition, the check in was followed by breakfast at Drougas; a bougátsa and freddo espresso for me and a ham and cheese croissant and cappuccino for Colin. The lady behind the counter in the bakery gave me a big “Kaliméra” and a high five. I love when people remember us and are warm and friendly. With a cheeky smile she’s been helping me speak better Greek, and she knew exactly what I wanted. without me having to ask. She spoke to me in Greek, as did the girl at the counter, which I also loved because usually I get spoken to in English regardless of whether I speak Greek to start with or not. I can understand why though. I don’t understand a lot of Greek, I can just speak certain sentences convincingly, although sometimes not so convincingly.
Colin made enquiries last night at the dive shop as to whether they would buy back the dive tank we bought there in 2019 and they asked him to bring it in after midday, so we returned to the boat in-between and dug out the ol’ Dolly Trolley for her last journey. I’d say she only just lasted for that final duty, and Colin put her to rest in the bins on the way back to the dinghy. I asked in the shop if they would be interested in the dive weights as well, and we returned with them in the evening. We got €30 for the tank and €15 for the weights. Heaps better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Revisiting our favourite restaurants we returned to Flísvos Taverna. It had been a real treat last year when we ate there with Elaine, and the staff - George, the owner, Melissa, his wife, and Christína, his sister - were all as sweet and friendly as we remembered them. We tried something different and had two delicious traditional dishes that were specials of the day. Christína also spoke a little Greek to me, and I was happy I understood some of it and could reply in Greek.
Before dinner we’d passed a crepe and waffle café that had a sign for hand-made ice-cream, so we stopped to check the legitimacy of it. The young man said his father made it, so we returned after dinner to try some. The father was there, but before we could even ask for ice cream he held up a tray of báklava and boasted it was the best in Greece and we had to have some. We said we'd get some to take away, but that we wanted an ice-cream. Many one-way conversations and lengthy explanations followed, mostly in Greek, about how his skills were passed down from his grandfather to his father, and his father to him, but the ice-cream was at best disappointing, as was the báklava when we ate it the following night, so we suspect what was handed down was the art of bullshit and salesmanship. Kudos to him though for being a master of his art. He sold us a sweet we didn’t want and ice-cream we didn’t like, and that was even after a taste test! There’s just no hope for some suckers.
Colin and I had decided we wanted to buy another pot at Mouseío for our neighbour, and while there I asked Colin for permission to buy a coffee cup to remind me of our travels. He’s been clamping down on what he considers unnecessary purchases, not because of cost, but because of our limited baggage allowance flying home. (It’s the reason we were buying our neighbour a little pot instead of a litre of ouzo). However, not only did he sanction it, he told me to get one for him too!
Saturday we cleaned the boat inside and out in preparation for an inspection. While at Sýros we decided it’s a good time to sell our beloved Loch Fyne Lass. We love Greece and the other countries we’ve travelled to, but our plans of revisiting Turkey are now unfeasible due to 100% inflation and exorbitant price hikes, and the longer term plan of sailing to Scotland via the Strait of Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay seems rather unlikely since the captain’s realisation that the first mate is a fair-weather sailor.
As Colin cleaned the hull a turtle surfaced not far from him. I hollered but he didn’t hear me. Still always so special to see. We’d also seen one as we left the pier yesterday.
After Mum read about me returning the rocks in Dhókos she messaged me, and the following conversation ensued:
Mum: We enjoyed getting into your latest addition on the webpage, you were very brave letting go of the hag stones, is that a new rule they’ve made?
Me: No, it’s because I collected so many I don’t have enough baggage allowance to bring them all home!!
Mum: That doesn’t seem right I think you should have words with the captain
Me: I’ve spoken to him, and he said the captain’s word is final, and that he doesn’t appreciate his mother-in-law’s meddling, and that if you want your daughter back safe you’ll mind your own beeswax, though he realises this position doesn’t give him a lot of leverage
Mum: I’m disappointed the captain’s not up for negotiation
Me: You can try your luck when we call
Mum: I do want you back safely sweetheart
Click images to enlarge
Sunday morning we bumped into Christian, our rigging and sail making man, as our dinghies crossed paths in the harbour. He was finished with work for the season and was heading to his catamaran, Maji, and sailing off to the Ionians.
I had my last bougátsa at Drougas, where we were once again warmly greeted by our favourite waitress who reminds us of “The girl with the dragon tattoo” (the Swedish one) but with blonde hair.
Black clouds rolled in over the port in the afternoon. Bolts of lightening flashed over the hills, followed by earsplitting cracks of thunder that tapered off to low rumblings. We waited for the rain, and soon enough it fell in heavy showers. Colin was hoping it wasn’t loaded with red dust from the Sahara.
I love being on a boat during a summer storm where I can sit out and enjoy it, and I spent quite a bit of time trying to capture the lightening on movie.
After the rain eased we heading in to our all-time favourite restaurant in Greece, Salt and Pepper. Dimitri was there with a handsome new haircut, and we exchanged a little Greek as he took our order. Trying something new and something we knew we’d love we had another superb meal, our last in Pórto Héli.
Click images to enlarge
I had my last bougátsa at Drougas, where we were once again warmly greeted by our favourite waitress who reminds us of “The girl with the dragon tattoo” (the Swedish one) but with blonde hair.
Black clouds rolled in over the port in the afternoon. Bolts of lightening flashed over the hills, followed by earsplitting cracks of thunder that tapered off to low rumblings. We waited for the rain, and soon enough it fell in heavy showers. Colin was hoping it wasn’t loaded with red dust from the Sahara.
I love being on a boat during a summer storm where I can sit out and enjoy it, and I spent quite a bit of time trying to capture the lightening on movie.
After the rain eased we heading in to our all-time favourite restaurant in Greece, Salt and Pepper. Dimitri was there with a handsome new haircut, and we exchanged a little Greek as he took our order. Trying something new and something we knew we’d love we had another superb meal, our last in Pórto Héli.
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Órmos Koiláda
Monday June 26 - 12nm, 2hrs
Anchored in 4m, sandy bottom, good holding
Monday June 26 - 12nm, 2hrs
Anchored in 4m, sandy bottom, good holding
Monday morning Colin checked us out at the Port Authority and we motored to Koiláda, our final port. We had a turtle greeting as we entered the bay.
As we were still waiting for our Beneteau man, George, to reschedule his boat inspection (he’d planned to see us Sunday but was called away) it was hard to know what we should pack up, so we just cleaned. It was hot and humid so my tankinis finally came into their own as I stayed in a wet top to stay cool.
Tuesday we met some other Aussies and Kiwis, and our days were spent sorting, packing, shopping, swimming, and eating. Situation normal.
Wednesday we were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to find some divine (in looks and name) ice-cream, the signature flavour being pistachio hazelnut praline parfait. As we’re far too lazy to go into town for dessert if we’ve eaten on the boat we had to go in for dinner as well. Dining at Mouragio I suddenly remembered how irresistible their zucchini fries are. Another fortunate, or unfortunate, discovery.
I had been trying to perfect what I call the “Mel manoeuvre”, named after our 84 year old friend who jumps off the dinghy like a spring chicken. It had been going pretty well for me, though Colin was pretty sure it would end in tears, having been around boats a little longer than I have. Anyway, as I tried to spring from the dinghy to the duckboard after returning from dinner it did indeed end in tears, and wet shoes, and a massive bruise on my leg. In my defence, Mel’s legs are at least twice as long as mine.
Click images to enlarge
As we were still waiting for our Beneteau man, George, to reschedule his boat inspection (he’d planned to see us Sunday but was called away) it was hard to know what we should pack up, so we just cleaned. It was hot and humid so my tankinis finally came into their own as I stayed in a wet top to stay cool.
Tuesday we met some other Aussies and Kiwis, and our days were spent sorting, packing, shopping, swimming, and eating. Situation normal.
Wednesday we were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to find some divine (in looks and name) ice-cream, the signature flavour being pistachio hazelnut praline parfait. As we’re far too lazy to go into town for dessert if we’ve eaten on the boat we had to go in for dinner as well. Dining at Mouragio I suddenly remembered how irresistible their zucchini fries are. Another fortunate, or unfortunate, discovery.
I had been trying to perfect what I call the “Mel manoeuvre”, named after our 84 year old friend who jumps off the dinghy like a spring chicken. It had been going pretty well for me, though Colin was pretty sure it would end in tears, having been around boats a little longer than I have. Anyway, as I tried to spring from the dinghy to the duckboard after returning from dinner it did indeed end in tears, and wet shoes, and a massive bruise on my leg. In my defence, Mel’s legs are at least twice as long as mine.
Click images to enlarge
Thursday Colin contacted George about rescheduling and he planned to come down Saturday.
Friday we popped in to Basimakopoulos Shipyard to confirm our plans for lifting out, and to let them know we’re selling the boat. We then pootled over to the other side of the Franchthi Caves and dropped anchor for the night. Although it’s still part of the bay of Koiláda, the water here was much clearer and cooler and we were the only boat there. Bliss.
Even more blissful was waking to the sound of sheep with their bells clinking during their morning stroll along the beach. Later when we went paddle-boarding they came down for another wander. So lovely.
Click images to enlarge
Friday we popped in to Basimakopoulos Shipyard to confirm our plans for lifting out, and to let them know we’re selling the boat. We then pootled over to the other side of the Franchthi Caves and dropped anchor for the night. Although it’s still part of the bay of Koiláda, the water here was much clearer and cooler and we were the only boat there. Bliss.
Even more blissful was waking to the sound of sheep with their bells clinking during their morning stroll along the beach. Later when we went paddle-boarding they came down for another wander. So lovely.
Click images to enlarge