Update

It’s been well over a month since my last post. Basically that’s because I’ve found writing this one very difficult. You see, shortly after that post we returned to the marina and did everything necessary to put Desi up for sale. 

We’d already come to the conclusion that we were ready for a change and put up a couple of adverts on-line but now it was time to put her into the hands of the experts. After contacting the agent who had originally​ marketed Desi, it became official. The ‘For Sale’ sign went up. 

Over the next fortnight we cleaned and polished her from top to bottom until she gleamed. Then, bit by bit, all our personal possessions were either passed on, binned or packed into two holdalls leaving only what we thought would be useful to whoever her next owners turn out to be. It was hard and emotional work, particularly in the heat of the long awaited Greek summer. 

But eventually we were on the ferry to Corfu before flying back to the UK. She still has to sell, of course, so it’s entirely possible we may be back. This made it very different from when we packed up Seren Mor for the last time and the sense of uncertainty still lingers. 

Nevertheless it’s good to return to the comforts of a home built of brick in the unpredictable British summer even if we’re struggling to make plans for what happens next. As we’d always intended to be off the boat for two months we do have a few short-term ideas to keep us occupied and life interesting but after that who knows? Watch this space. 

 

Rain, Rain Go Away

The dank, quite chilly and, at times, frankly wet days of May returned and have persisted into June. So we are back in the marina, the convenience of a decent town and shore power with its associated hot water too tempting. But we did get a few days out and about.

After that night at anchor, we had a few days in Sivota, Lefkada close enough for me to hobble to the Family Taverna for some of Yianna’s wonderful home cooking. Then a couple in “Little” Vathy on Meganissi, again convenient for me to get about a little. But the forecast rain took us back to our berth.

Days in the marina soon start to merge with only a few, for me anyway, warm enough for a couple of hours lying around in the cockpit. My ankle is, thankfully, improving enough for the short walk to and around Levkas Town to be possible. At least the poor weather has meant I didn’t get too stir crazy, convenient for days resting down below.

After a night of heavy rain, today is probably the coldest and consistently dull day so far. I’m writing this lounging on the “sofa” snug in a fleece and wrapped in a blanket. Neil, however, is in the cockpit determinedly clad in swim-shorts and t-shirt. And socks.

 

That’s More Like It

It’s a fact that the more time we spend in a marina the less inclined we are to go out. Mind you the inclement weather, Neil being full of cold and the fact that I could barely walk didn’t help. With some improvement in all three, though not what you’d call ideal, we thought we’d better take the chance and actually move the boat. So with all the accompaniments of shore power and a relatively horizontal floor packed away we cautiously edged out of our berth and through the Lefkas Canal. 

The familiarity of these islands can sometimes make us blind to their beauty but it was with the new eyes of a winter away that we chugged the short distance down the east coast of Levkas to the holiday resort of Nidri and into the bay of Vliho beyond. We truly appreciated every minute. The season and the temperature had kept the majority of boats still awaiting their owners​ or clients and the wildlife was making the most of it. We even saw our first dolphins/porpoises of the season – almost unheard of later in the year in these busy waters. I’ve long since given up trying to take pictures of these beautiful creatures, resigned to never being able to capture their extraordinary beauty. It’s so much better to just live in the moment and store the memory away for the days when this is no longer our lifestyle.

We’d chosen Vliho as our first stop for its easy anchoring and all round shelter from the still chilly wind. It’s a popular haunt for liveaboards but not somewhere we tend to spend much time. But yesterday it was perfect. A pleasant temperature to lie around in the cockpit, still water for easy cooking and a wonderfully​ restful night. Neil even took the plunge and had his first swim of the season this morning. Mind you, that says more about him than anything else. I was still in my fleece.

 

 

Grubbing About on Board

I didn’t write much once we returned to Spain in January or at all during the month we spent back in the UK afterwards. There just didn’t seem to be very much to say, to be honest. But now we’re back on the boat I thought I’d better get my finger out.

A very welcome site to wake up to – view from our hotel room

It was only this morning that we came aboard, having indulged in the luxury of a night in a hotel. Neither of us begrudge it, though. The thought of having to somehow access a bed on the boat after a late arrival and a long day of traveling was beyond daunting. You see, when a boat is “put away” for the winter, left to cope with the inevitable bad weather and potential consequences, a lot of work is involved.

Anything that the wind could get hold of – sails, dinghy,  bimini (provides shade in the summer) as well all the loose items like buckets, brushes and soft furnishings have to be stowed below. A cold, unventilated interior is asking to be affected by damp so anything that might go mouldy needs to be protected, usually by wrapping them in plastic bags, and moved away from the walls. These all have to go somewhere and every bit of space is utilised including the floor of the heads (bathroom) and the beds.

If the boat is to be lifted out onto the land every item that might either break or cause damage has to be secured in some way. Electricity is disconnected, water tanks emptied and the toilet flushed through with chemicals to clean the pipes and holding tank.

Neil let’s down the bathing platform so we can board from the pontoon

From all this you can probably gather that the boat is pretty much uninhabitable without a lot of work to put it all back together. Mostly dirty, back-breaking work at that. Bruises, cuts and​ broken fingernails are all par for the course. Even doing the minimum late at night is not to be recommended.

 

So that has been our day today. There’s still a lot of cleaning and provisioning to be done but we’ve both had enough for the time being. It’s T-shirt weather, at least for now, and it’s wonderful to ditch the shoes and get out the flip flops. Plus a little drink is called for. 

More Lefkas

Yes, we’re still in Lefkas so the only thing to add is a few more photos. This will probably be the last post from Greece until next sailing season but, never fear (I knew you were worried), the blog will continue.

As is typical in Greece there are lots of cats about, many of them street urchins and some very much the worse for wear. This little one is understandably nervous.

An attractive spot overlooking the lagoon to eat out. There are even flamingos to spot (too distant for me to get a decent photo) but you might not recognise them without their familiar pink plumage.

Most of the small squares in the old part of town tend to be utilised for parking and this is the only exception we’ve spotted.

Above: The narrow streets of the old town are very much a community and not just geared up for tourists.

Below: I’m often drawn to the rather picturesque quality of wooden boat left to “return to nature.”

Lefkada Living

The floating bridge swings open for the canal traffic. It’s the essentially temporary nature of the bridge that allows Lefkas to keep island status rather than being part of the mainland.

Having taken refuge in Lefkas Marina to sit out the recent Medicane, we’re reluctant to leave for the remaining days of the season. We initially postponed our departure because of the a wet few days following the storm then stayed on to enjoy the town during the sunshine. Now the days are racing by and with the threat of more rain in the days preceding our flight it seems like a good idea to get all the jobs necessary to put the boat “to bed” done while the sun shines. Mind you, we’re not exactly rushing and there are certain jobs such as putting the dinghy away that can’t be done until the last day (it lives in the main cabin over winter).

Togetherness in a shady spot

It has to be said, though, we like it here. The town is the main one on the island so is still very much a place where people live as well as catering for the influx of tourists over the summer months. It’s a very sociable marina with both a full time live aboard community and those like us who only want to be on the boat while the weather holds out. So there are lots of evenings out where we’ve met some lovely people and always someone to ask about things like launderettes. I also need a filling so it’s a good time to get that sorted before any pain kicks in!

There are plentiful tavernas but this is probably our favourite – THE best house red wine in the Ionian and cheap!

Bikes are really popular

And scooters. Not all are classics like this one, though!

Oh, and did I mention there’s shore power?

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. 

East Coast of Kefalonia

We didn’t get the planned meal out that night in Ay Eufemia. With more rain forecast and the outboard’s unproven reliability we just didn’t want to take the risk. Maybe we’ll give it another go later in the season. Maybe.

You see we much preferred our next stop of Sami. The harbour master was friendly and efficient, cycling around the full length of the harbour to make sure he was there to direct crews to where he wanted them to go and to help them in. He’d even advise about where to drop the anchor although some preferred to take no notice – yes, I’m talking about you Mr Skippered Charter!

And there was none of this business of reserving whole stretches of quay for the flotillas. It was first come first served. Those arriving later were likely to end up on the less than ideal outer section where the wind and swell, not to mention the regular arrival and departure of ferries. Inside, however, made the strong breeze extremely pleasant and the swell was virtually non existent. There’s a charge, of course, but not unreasonable.

Sami bay in the early morning light.

The town itself also proved to be welcoming with a couple of excellent (for Greece) and decently priced supermarkets as well as a good selection of tavernas and bars. We also found ourselves walking along the quiet roads roads shortly after sunrise to be greeted by views over the bay as well as the scant remains of a castle. There’s also an acropolis signposted but I don’t think we ever found it. I say “think” as there isn’t much left of that either but it was very pleasant searching.

Not much else left of the castle

The next stop down the coast is Poros and that was where we headed next. We’d attempted to go there in Seren Môr but had made a swift exit when the depth gage showed the non-existent water under her keel. We were more confident with Desi’s shallower draft and the fact that friends had made it without difficulty. We needn’t have worried, though, as the harbour has obviously been dredged and much bigger boats than ours came in. Like last time, though, there was virtually no one around to assist us in. We were very fortunate that a shore-based couple with a bit of sailing experience happened to be passing otherwise it would have been ‘The Leap of Death’ on to the high quayside. Of the harbour master there was no sign. Until he wanted his money that evening, of course.

I only got to see the main area of Poros before the sun got too high or after it set .

Poros isn’t a resort that has sprung up around the harbour. The main tourist area is alongside the beach, accessed along a short but fairly steep road (with a noteworthy pavement) followed  by steps down to the promenade. We didn’t get to see it during the day, however as the most memorable thing about our stay for me was the heat that just seemed to hit you as soon as the engine was turned off, radiating up from the concrete expanse outside the cockpit. This is an access road for the ferry traffic which the lorries wanting to board often take at speed, as though they’re going to leap onto the ferry before the ramp is lowered.

All in all, an anchorage seemed like a good idea after that. We’d spotted a bay which had appealed on the way to Poros but ended up in a completely different one. This beach at this one was completely inaccessible by road but still had a small drinks shack. As, again, one by one all the other boats disappeared, the owners boarded their own, leaving us alone. Alone, that is, until the tripper boat turned up. Thankfully, they didn’t stay long. A late arrival that tied onto the rocks a short distance away meant we still didn’t get the bay completely to ourselves but a pretty good result.

Heading home

View From the Bridge (OK, Cockpit)

I thought I’d share a few photos just to show the variety of places we go to. All have their charms. 

First, a recent favourite: Bungalow Bay. That’s not the name on the map, of course. It doesn’t tend to be high on the list for those who only come out here for a week or so and I wouldn’t like to be one to advertise it! 

Not every stop has quite such a pretty view. This is what we looked out on when we tied to the quay in “Little” Vathy on Meganissi. 

Don’t let this put you off, though; the view from Ian and Bobbie Streten’s “Sundowner” deck was very different – thanks for letting me use the picture, Ian. 

Sometimes you are the subject of boundless fascination or even the main source of entertainment. This was on the beautiful Assos, Kefalonia​, which is more of a land-based tourist destination as it is only suitable for boats in very settled weather so most people aren’t used to being around boats. 

Finally, early morning at anchor in Vlicho, a spot well known to the live-aboard community but rarely visited by those holidaying in nearby Nidre.