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?

What Desi Did Next

With some blowy weather forecast we headed for our ‘go to’ place in the the Southern Ionian, Sivota on Lefkas. As it turned out, the worst of the weather didn’t materialise, although there was obviously more wind outside the harbour, but we never mind spending time in there.

Eventually, though, the pretty little resort of Fiscardo called to us. We usually choose to tie to the rocks and dinghy ashore, preferring what tends to be a quieter spot with easy swimming access to the noise of the quay. This time, however, with the weather still decidedly changeable and the sea definitely failing my big toe test, the quay seemed a better option. The pontoon which only a couple of years ago provided extra space has now disappeared and the better spots were already taken up so we had no choice but to tie outside a taverna, the passarelle touching down amongst the tables.

Despite this and the incessant Zorba music, Fiscardo didn’t disappoint. It is probably my favourite stop in the Ionian, rather gentrified and with prices to match, but still worth the harbour dues. It even has a better class of tourist tat. This is the place to buy your chic summer dresses and thick Turkish towels if you don’t mind forking out the readies. I’m always tempted but compromised with a rather pretty fridge magnet. Now all we need is a fridge to put it on. Oh, and a kitchen, of course.

Next stop was Kalamos and the bay of the deserted Port Leone. Abandoned after an earthquake wrought havoc, it is now given over to boats and fishermen who have a habit of laying nets and almost blocking access, a real propeller hazard for the unwary or those arriving in the dark. Again it was a bit on the chilly side and the katabatic wind not particularly pleasant so one night was enough. The following morning we tootled the couple of miles to Port Kalamos itself.
There was a fair bit of wind as well as rain forecast for the Ionian with just a small patch of blue (indicating light winds) over Kalamos and neighbouring Kastos. This probably played its part in the frenzy that developed that evening. We’ve been here several times, often in peak season, and have never seen it so busy. Two flotillas, one of them unexpected, along with numerous charter boats and all arriving relatively late in the day (the owner occupied crews made sure to get in early) created, what turned out to be, very well organised chaos. This is all thanks to an amazing taverna owner who skillfully made sure every boat dropped enough chain and had a place to go to. How he managed it is something to behold. Inevitably there was anchor chain spaghetti the next morning but again George was there to make sure no anchor was uprooted. We’re not in any hurry to move off.

All quiet at the weekend – pretty Kalamos

And Relax

It was the chandlers that took us to Nidri next. Along with the adjoining Vlicho Bay, Nidri is popular with live-aboards, and we’ve certainly had some good times there, but it’s not a favourite stop of ours. We managed to get onto a pontoon, one that looked in a lot better condition than the last time we were here and the new owners had installed lazy lines (ropes fixed to the seabed that can be attached to the bow of a boat instead of using your own anchor).
It’s not a quiet spot, though. Attracting land-based holiday makers as well as the boating crowd, it has a lot to offer. Restaurants and bars line the water front, with the parallel back street containing a plentiful assortment of supermarkets, bakeries, souvenir shops and giros takeaways. Nestled among these is still the occasional hardware shop and a decent chandlers, all making it a good place to re-provision. We got a few things we hadn’t found in Levkas town and got a few more jobs done, making the stop worthwhile one and busy again.
People on holiday don’t tend to be at their quietest, though, and coupled with the party boats that like to have music blaring to attract the punters, doesn’t make for the most peaceful of nights. It is, however, usually well protected from most winds but an uncomfortable swell can get in. You’ve guessed it – in it came.
Thankfully, our sea legs had returned quickly, the lazy lines seemed up to the job and we didn’t have to worry about anybody’s anchor dragging. We slept like the proverbial logs.
All the same we were glad to be moving on again. The plan to spend a few nights at anchor in a quiet bay next was scuppered by the weather forecast, though.

Watching the rain approach

Thunderstorms were on the way. With this in mind, we chose instead to head the short distance to Sivota on the same island. This can be just as noisy, it’s true, and a flotilla company has made it it’s base but we have always been fond of the smaller scale resort. Picking the weekend with the flotilla crews change over could have been a mistake but wasn’t a problem as it turned out. At least not yet! We found a place in our “usual” spot and had lunch at a favourite cafe. The changes weren’t at first immediately apparent but then we realised things seem to have been smartened up a bit, gone a bit more up market, perhaps.
The rain and thunder rolled in as predicted but we almost welcomed them as the temperature and humidity dropped and it was all over by a surprisingly chilly night fall. We really must get some bedding sorted out!

Fingers Crossed

We’d been a bit concerned about heading for Greece in December. The hotels were booked so bed and breakfast was sorted but what about other meals? Would anywhere else be open out of season? How would the stringent austerity measures imposed on the country affect day to day life? Our main concern, though, was that we didn’t have any winter clothes! We needn’t have worried. Everywhere was quiet, of course, but life has to go on and Athens was an unseasonable 25° when we landed! It did cool enough to be glad of the extra layers and newly purchased jumper as the day wore on but, even so, we couldn’t believe our luck.
The road between the capital and the coast was much as we remembered it from three years ago – contraflow and traffic cones most of the way as well as dark and winding approaching the Ionian. The work stops and starts periodically depending on the cash flow. Naturally, the pretty port town of Lefkas was almost unrecognisably quieter than we had become familiar with. The marina still looked prosperous but many of its berths were now filled by a popular flotilla company.

We soon spotted a few live-aboards in a nearby taverna, though, and figured that was probably the best place to get our first meal. Large quantities of “sexy chicken” and sufficient local wine and Mythos later we knew we’d made a good choice. As the early morning sun lit up the town, basting the buildings in its golden hue and casting rippling reflections of the many masts across the harbour, the mist in the surrounding hills gradually cleared revealing long legged birds wading in the salt marshes. Fishermen brought in their catch as well fed cats sat waiting expectantly for fish heads, not the slightest bit interested in the strutting pigeons. It was all feeling like a holiday.

But we weren’t here to admire the scenery. We’d come to see a boat and waited impatiently for the broker’s to open. It wasn’t long, though, before we were heading to a nearby yard to take a look around what we hoped would be the main feature of our next adventure. She didn’t disappoint. The very brief conversation between the two of us that followed went something like:
“What do you think?”
“She looks in good condition.”
“Shall we put in an offer?”
“Go for it!”
And we did.