Medicane Zorbas

And what a roar September is going out with. I’d never even heard of a Medicane (Mediterranean Hurricane) until Zorbas casually swept by. We’d seen the forecast for a Force 5 (nothing out of the ordinary here) which is why we’d come into the marina again in the first place.  What we got was three unrelentingly days, and nights, of up to 45 knots. That’s the upper end of a Force 9 and decidedly not nice on a boat.

The nights were the worst, of course. Neither of us slept much even though, logically, we were as safe as we could be. The urge to just keep checking is almost overwhelming: check the lazy line; check how close to the pontoon we are; check the dinghy; check the fenders and so on and so on. Nerves quickly become frazzled as you feel your body tense each time the intensity of the gust builds up and the boat judders as the lines are put under more tension.

Lefkas Quay before the worst of the Medicane still looked very uncomfortable to say the least. They had their engine running to keep the stern from hitting the quay.

During the day it was even possible to venture out briefly to see how everybody else was faring. Those on the quay, near to the bridge over the canal, were infinitely worse off. I’m told the mud is very soft here so inevitably anchors weren’t holding and running the engine to keep you from hitting the quay is not what you want to do for 72 hours.

North Entrance to Lefkas Port just after the Medicane passed.

Those, mostly liveaboards, alongside at the northern entrance to the port before the swing bridge had the worst location, though. I would describe it as untenable but with a choice of wait it out with almost inevitable damage and heading out into the the much more fierce conditions of the open sea, well, I don’t know what I would do. And the worst happened for one poor soul. The boat was holed and gradually sank. (here) I understand he had time to get most of his possessions​ off but this was his home he being forced to  leave to the unforgiving waves. A reminder for all of us of the changeable nature of our beautiful Med.

Autumn’s Arrival

Lefkas Marina at sunrise

In complete contrast to June, September has been glorious but autumn arrived while we were in Vassiliki. Yes, I feel I can be that specific. You see, we’d been sweltering up until then, pretty much day and night. But that evening, while waiting for our red snapper to be served at a favourite harbour-side taverna, I had to fetch a fleece. I know, right!

Vassiliki is popular for all wind driven water sports because of its reliable breeze

To be fair, we go to Vassiliki because it’s breezy even in settled weather making life on a boat so much more pleasant. There’d been a bit of of a breeze in most places recently but this was the first time there was a definite nip to it.

Much of the housing in the older streets of Lefkas Town is made of corrugated metal but some timber frames still exist.

We’d had a few days in Lefkas Marina to sort out our new berth and generally get to know the town a bit better. But with the weather set fair, an anchorage called. We watched the Southern Ionion Regatta race go by from our spot in a small bay near Nidri before heading heading for Vasiliki to do our washing.

Mare’s tails sunset in Bungalow Bay

With the cooler wind came the first indication of a more threatening forcast. We took our chance for a last night at anchor in Bungalow Bay before heading back to the marina. Now here we sit with a Force 8 setting my nerves on edge and lots more to come. September is going out with a lion’s roar. 

Ionian Redeemed

Everyone seems to gather as the sun goes down in Mitikas

I seem to have been posting a few, shall we say, less than enthusiastic entries of late. When Terry asked in the comments section if it was worth it (referring to Fiscardo in particular) I was beginning​ to wonder myself. But since then most days have been a demonstration ​of why we got into this little lark in the first place. The variety to the locations we visited seemed to reflect the different sides of our personalities.

Sivota, Lefkada

We spent a few blustery days in Sivota, getting lucky on our favourite spot again, generally doing all the boaty and domestic jobs, followed by a few more indulgent days that involved over eating at the Family Taverna. Oh, and a football match. And rather a lot to drink.

Port Leone, Kalamos

Something completely different was called for after that. We chose what is probably our favourite island of Kalamos anchoring in Port Leone first then on to Port Kalamos itself. Finally we crossed the short stretch of water to the mainland and the small harbour of Mitikas where we were again lucky enough to get the last place on the inside of the quay.

The perfect spot to watch the sunset in Mitikas

I’ve written about all of these places before (Here) so enough said. I’ll just add that the weather was absolutely perfect with warm breezy days and cooler nights. And no one pulled up our anchor or tried to crush us. Like I said – this is what it’s all about.

The “Top End” of Kefalonia

With settled weather forecast for the next few days, we took the chance to go to the small harbour of Assos. Not many cruising boats go in there, mainly because it is open to the prevailing wind and can easily become untenable. Even with light winds a noticeable swell came in. The other problem is the quay’s rocky galaxy that prevents most sailing boats from mooring close enough in to get ashore without the using their dinghy.

Having said all that, Assos may well be the prettiest location in the Ionian. A ruined castle guards the entrance with a delightful paved and shady walk up to it. From here the narrow bridge-like strip of land that is all that separates the harbour from the open sea is clearly visible and the beautiful little village sparkles in the morning light, glows as the sun goes down. With limited space for tourists to stay, it still attracts those with cars from other resorts on the island so the quality tavernas flourish in season. Long may it stay that way but I have my doubts.

Neil, visiting some 30 years ago once called our next stop, Fiscardo, the prettiest place he’d ever soon. Even a few years ago it used to be a firm favourite of ours despite being generally more expensive than even the touristic prices of other Ionian resorts. Then, we used to prefer to tie long lines to the shore opposite the quay and away from the mania that would develop as the popularity of the harbour soared. That ended when we returned on Desi to experience the late arrivals dropping dragging anchors between narrow spaces and with only enough rope to take one line ashore. The inevitable result was them leaning on us putting pressure on our own anchor before ploughing it up completely if the wind got up.

Still, hearing that the quay tended to be quieter at the weekend, we thought we’d give that a go. Despite a flotilla now having made it it their base and monopolising swaithes of the quay, we were still able to get on in quite a good location. Yes, the massive tripper boats all came racing in at lunchtime, the loudest just one space away from us but they didn’t stay long and the regular ferries weren’t a problem.

No, it was that single space that became a problem along with the one on the other side of us when the flotilla went out the following day. Into these spaces came the Skippered Charters With the exception of catamarans these are among the biggest sailing boats out there, all usually with a single skipper doing everything himself while the passengers largely stand by unable or unwilling to help. These skippers are also among the most arrogant sailors it has been our misfortune to come across. They expect every other boat to make room for them yet are reluctant to budge an inch themselves when another obnoxious ****  comes ramming in.

I admit I lost it. I got so worked up it can’t have been good for my blood pressure as poor little Desi was being squeezed between them as one in particular, attached to the flotilla, refused to wait a minute longer as everyone was trying to move over. I’ve been left with the overwhelming feeling that I never want to go to Fiscardo again. Neil is more forgiving so we’ll see.