Cutting the Dragon's Tail

by Lynda Chidell

  We had had a wonderful cruise to Turkey and we were now ready to settle into a spell of marina life for the first time. Our previous experience had been almost totally on the hard, working our guts out to get the boat shipshape again. This time we were going to savour the advantages of being part of a floating village and living close to like-minded people.

  3. Winter in a Floating Village

  Even though we had had a full summer of work with the boat out on the hard, there were still several changes we felt we would like to make. A whole winter based in a place with good facilities was too good an opportunity to miss. First, though, we wanted to get to know our new neighbours and enjoy our first Christmas in the company of other yachts. There was only one job which needed urgent attention, and that was getting a specialist to have a look at the still-leaking stern gland. We had visions of an enforced second haul-out. In the event, this was not necessary as the engineer was able to squeeze into the aft bilge and re-stuff the stern gland housing with the boat in the water.

  David was glad to be back in Cyprus and to know that we had no commitments (other than social ones) for a number of months. He was not feeling at all well, the stiff neck and headache persisting and now affecting his back too. In fact, he was so unwell that we visited a doctor and got a referral to an orthopaedic surgeon. Inconclusive X-rays were taken; anti-inflammatory drugs were given, along with analgesics. Eventually David was sent for physiotherapy to a young Cypriot called Athos, who had trained in England. Nothing seemed to help, and instead of getting better, he appeared to be suffering more and more. Normal static positions such as sitting, lying down and standing were difficult to maintain without pain. All through the winter, this problem overshadowed our every activity.

  Quite a few of the yotties we had met while on the hard had returned for the winter, and there were still a few of our own Red Sea fleet in Larnaca. Of our immediate neighbours, we knew White Friar II’s crew slightly, but Cusar’s not at all.

  I had stayed aboard Windsong on my arrival back in April and they had been moored close to White Friar II. I clearly remembered Peter, her skipper, declaring at a quayside party, while scoffing strawberries and cream and drinking champagne, that he really had no time for Germans. I recalled thinking this was a bit ‘off’ – especially in a multi-national society such as that in which we found ourselves. He had been introduced to me simply by his first name, as is the yottie way. He spoke with a highly cultured accent and, to all intents and purposes, appeared English to the core. One day, shortly after our return, I emerged from Tin Hau to see Peter on the quay sporting a brilliant sweatshirt with ‘SUPERKRAUT’ emblazoned across the chest. I could not resist referring to his comment of the previous spring, and discovered he was in fact a German national. From then on, he was known to us as Superkraut. His lovely ladyfriend, Angela, we referred to as ‘Petal’. Living so close to them, we could not but be aware of him using this term of endearment whenever he wanted anything. The rest of the time we believe he did use her given name.

  Cusar is a Turkish word meaning pirate or corsair, but is also an acronym for ‘Colonel US Army (Retired)’, which is what Rick was. He was married to a bundle of energy called Sheila – a physical therapist (to use her own terminology) turned sailor. Sheila kindly gave David a number of massages to try and help his back, and she also ‘vetted’ Athos before he submitted David to a series of epidural and other injections.

  We had arranged for a friend of ours, Mark Sylvester, who was based in Italy, to come over and join us for Christmas along with Margaret, David’s mum. Prior to their arrival, we also offered to have Cleopatra to stay for a few weeks. Cleo was an English bulldog belonging to Danish friends Torben and Helle Jorgensen. Torben was abroad working as a plastic surgeon somewhere in the Caribbean. Helle, meanwhile, was anxious to help a desperately ill mother in Denmark but was unable to go there because she could not take Cleo for quarantine reasons. She could not believe her luck when we volunteered to have her stay on Tin Hau. Cleo turned out to be one of our most endearing visitors and we had loads of fun with her. The Jorgensen’s own boat had been on the hard for months and Cleo had had to be winched on and off Nicoline Magrethe in a specially designed harness. By comparison, life back on board a floating boat was a doddle. The wheelhouse and deck became her domain. As long as she had her green tartan blanket to sleep under, a couple of salty crackers to eat before bed, a couple of reasonable walks, a daily game of ball and the odd chopped cucumber treat to eat, she was happy.

  Rick and Sheila were keen bridge players and we discovered that there were quite a few others in the marina. One of the American skippers, Don of Sunchaser, was running a class for beginners. We decided it would be fun to introduce them all to duplicate bridge. Starting with some of the better players, we got a group going once weekly in a restaurant near the marina gates. As soon as they were all familiar with the differences between rubber and duplicate bridge, David set up a handicap system. At this point the beginners who had been learning from Don joined the group. The better players had the satisfaction of pre-handicap point wins, and the less able were in with a fair chance of taking home the prizes. During the winter we held various competitions. Teams comprising single nationalities played against one another. We formed a Larnaca Marina team which challenged teams of expatriates and locals in Paphos. This was just one of the activities which united the floating community. We understand that the Larnaca club was still running some years after we left, and that another had been started in Kuşadasi Marina.

  Sinbad Severn was moored several boats along the quay. She had recently changed hands, though her new owners were unable to move aboard at that stage. They had pressed a non-sailor friend called Billy to boat-sit her for the winter. Billy was a brilliant musician, who, together with David and myself, had volunteered to be the ‘band’ for the yottie carol evening. We had a number of rehearsals on Sinbad, David on his accordion, Billy and myself on guitars. Billy managed to persuade a Cypriot music shop owner to lend us a sound system for the actual night, and David used an electronic keyboard instead of his accordion. Don of Abask was MC and choir master, and he cobbled together a group of singers from the liveaboards. Volunteers wrote out the words for the carols on the back of reject rolls of wallpaper, different verses in different languages. Non-singers from the European boats organised glühwein and mince pies for the evening. Cypriot customs made an old unused warehouse available to us. We were joined there by a large number of ex-pats from town and had an enjoyable singsong by candlelight.

  The marina staff organised a ‘silly party’ on Boxing Day, which consisted of a number of games and races with silly or back-to-front rules and instructions. For instance, there was the slow bike race. The idea was to ride your bike as slowly as possible between two points without actually stopping or falling off. Dinghy and swimming races in the ice cold marina water were also included.

  New Year was celebrated with a tramp’s ball and pig roast. The American boats handled all the catering for this, taking one hour tricks at turning the spit. They started at some unearthly time in the morning to have all ready for eating at midnight. The same customs warehouse was borrowed and decorated, with the flags of all the nations represented together with the courtesy flags of many nations visited.

  Apart from these seasonal and winter activities, we passed quiet evenings aboard Tin Hau, or enjoyed the company of other sailors on board their boats. Sundays were designated barbecue days. A huge fire was lit every week and we were free to join in or not. Everyone provided their own meat and drinks as well as a communal salad or sweet.

  During the earlier part of the winter, some of the American ladies, headed by Sheila, buzzed about the marina taking pictures of yotties going about their daily business- carrying out routine winter maintenance and daily chores which, on a boat, are somewhat more primitive than their land counterparts. We discovered that these pictures were to be used to illustrate a talk the ladies were giving to an international club in tow
n. We were intrigued that liveaboard life was to be the subject of such a talk and begged the opportunity to see the show ourselves. They had managed to capture so many aspects of our lives which we never really considered particularly unusual. The show took the form of slides with an extremely humorous commentary delivered by Sheila. I do so wish that I had thought to video record her performance, as it was vastly entertaining and would have made a wonderful keepsake for us all.

  Over the months spent in this unique village, we got to know a number of people from different countries, cultures and walks of life. There really is no better way of promoting international understanding. As in any small community, we rejoiced at the arrival of several babies, and we experienced the shock and sadness of death when one of our number fell overboard, was trapped between two boats and drowned on the night before Christmas Eve. The members of the community stood by and helped one another through such crises in a way which is no longer so common on shore.

  After the Christmas and New Year celebrations were over and our visitors had all returned whence they came, David and I proceeded to rip out and rebuild the galley/saloon area. Our seating arrangements had always been a bit of a nuisance because there was only one way into these areas, and, once in, the first person was trapped. The fridge and freezer were not being used much because the former was too small and the latter too large. This desperately needed sorting out. Generally, the galley was no longer suited to my needs and we had much better ideas we wanted to try out now that we had lived aboard for some time.

  For a period of about two months we had no food preparation facilities. Nor had we any dining area. There are many small tavernas in the town of Larnaca, and most of them produced good meals almost as cheaply as I could on the boat. David and I had our favourites and it was to these that we now made our way on a strictly rotational basis for our daily dinner. We visited ‘Chips and Chips’ along the esplanade on one night of the week (nicknamed thus because their limited English and our limited Greek had once caused a misunderstanding that resulted in David being served two plates of chips as his meal). We went to ‘Two Pound’ on another- again a nickname we had devised, as everything we ever ordered totalled two pounds on the bill at the end of the evening. On Fridays we continued to visit our wayside souvlaki hut and cake shop in the company of Louis. Funnily enough I never tired of the Greek taverna food. Very simple, most of it, but wholesome and very tasty. I doubt I could have lasted so long on English café grub.

  Meanwhile, we had to start rebuilding our galley and saloon. Absolutely everything had been removed. We ditched the main section of the stainless steel freezer tank, the old gas cooker, and the remaining microwave. Our new layout made provision for the installation of a full-size domestic cooker to be placed fore and aft, with a guard rail to hold it in place. We had the latter fabricated, along with other stainless steel projects, by Manolis and Melitas of the engineering workshop in the marina.

  The new freezer/fridge arrangement was to be made of timber, lined with Formica. The design was for a moderate sized box in which we installed the eutectic plates. This would be the main freezer compartment. This was divided from the next compartment by an insulated divider with a spill-under gap. We constructed several of these compartments, each getting progressively further away from and therefore warmer than the freezer. Any of them could be expanded by the removal of a divider panel. This system worked very well and was far more efficient in terms of power requirements.

  The new saloon settee arrangement made use of all the stripped-out blackwood set up on a different framework. This time we went for two settees facing one another across a table. The table was fixed at one end and at the other end was supported on a specially fabricated stainless steel pedestal. The new galley and saloon ran athwartships, galley at the engine room end and saloon aft.

  We now had an island in the centre of the saloon/galley area. Most of this was devoted to counter space, but the rest housed the sink and the stainless lids from the old freezer. These acted as a place for draining pots and so on, as well as providing a good safe stowage area for thermos flasks and the like when making passage.

  I managed to obtain virtually enough teak parquet tiles to resurface the cabin sole. Nick, from the timber workshop, was able to supply me with offcut strips of teak, which I used as borders along all the edges. This eked out the tiles to completely cover the area. The finished effect was very good indeed.

  Finally, I cribbed an idea for our new tabletop from White FriarII, constructing it from laminated layers of ply with an inlaid teak and cherry wood top.

  While I was busy with the detailing down below, David worked up designs for, and supervised the fabrication of, new boom gallows and various other deck fixings. Our neighbours were very tolerant of all the mess and noise these involved.

  One of the saddest tasks we had to perform that winter was the sale of Knot Often. She had been in storage on the hard while we had been in Turkey, but the time had come to sell her if we could. We found a buyer, a local gentleman, but this created a real bureaucratic tangle because the dinghy had, first, to be imported. David is endlessly patient in these sort of dealings and managed to find a route through to completing the sale, but not without some annoying financial loss in the form of customs duty payments. We had already found and been using our replacement dinghy, a second-hand aluminium ‘tubby’ dinghy from one of the Australian boats. She was christened Tin Tack and proved to be a perfect substitute for Knot Often. We now had access through our stern gates over our gangplank or passarelle. We had constructed this from a long aluminium ladder, some substantial threaded bar, nuts, bolts and washers, and a pair of nylon wheels. White painted plywood was attached to the ladder and coated with non-slip material. This was a standard method of making simple boarding equipment in Cyprus. The top of the ladder had hooks fitted, which slotted over some specially placed bars at the stern gates, enabling us, with a system of ropes and pulleys, to raise and lower the drawbridge.

  Mid-March was our deadline for completion of these alterations and improvements. We wanted time to refresh ourselves and get ready for the push into the Mediterranean. David’s back was not getting any better in spite of the variety of treatments he had undergone. By this time we were convinced that the best thing was for him to return to England to try and find out what was wrong and get whatever treatment he could.

  First, though, we had to find somewhere for me to stay with the boat. We could not remain in Cyprus without incurring customs charges. My criteria were to find somewhere interesting, where I would feel safe on my own, and where the boat would be okay. My inclination was to find a Greek island port. Talking to all the experienced Greek hands, one town seemed to come up quite frequently: Mitilini on Lesbos. We made the decision to leave in the middle of April.

  One final task remained before departure. We had to take the boat out of the marina and swing our main compass. We had bought some new magnets for this purpose. I had given David an Autohelm digital compass for Christmas, which was incredibly accurate and could be used to help us with this task. Rick and Sheila went out with us for the day. The idea was to do the work while the weather was calm, then have a sail later in the day when the wind got up. The compass swinging went well, and, as soon as we had taken a light lunch, a breeze sprang up sufficient for us to raise sail. It impressed our higher-tech neighbours enormously how easy it was to get such a big boat going in airs as light as force one. The breeze gradually increased to a respectable force three to four and we had a fun afternoon’s sailing.

  We were very glad that we had taken the trouble to do this run prior to departure. When David carried out his post-excursion engine room check, he found the aft sole nearly awash with salt water. The siphon-breaker water trap had corroded right through at its base. A replacement had to be specially made. We had to wait a few days before Manolis was free to construct an entirely new water trap from stainless steel, with a much heavier, thicker base than previously. Once that had been
installed, we were virtually ready to leave Larnaca.

  Memories of shortages experienced on previous trips to Greek islands prompted us to do an enormous purchase of certain food items. We cycled to the largest supermarket in town, some two miles distant, on bikes fitted with crates and baskets at front and rear ends. We also carried large rucksacks on our backs. We returned laden with goodies for the store cupboards to see us through the weeks that lay ahead.

  4. In Quest of a Quiet Anchorage

  Despite having left our berth a week previously, we still found our anchor chain was under that belonging to another yacht, Wizardry. It took some time and work with boat hooks for us to free ourselves and for them to relay their anchor. Friends waited patiently while the untangling process took place - praying, no doubt, that their own boats had not also become snarled with others. Some of them, we knew, we would see on our travels. Others we would possibly never meet again. This is one of the sad facts of life for the itinerant.

  This time we were following the more usual westabout route out of Cyprus, aiming directly for Rhodes. We did not get very far, however, before being headed. So, within sight of Larnaca Marina, we anchored in shallow water at the end of the runway of the main airport. By evening the wind had changed and we were able to make progress at the rate of three to four knots. The following morning, around breakfast time, we were treated to a wonderful display by the Red Arrows, who were flying, we believe, from the Royal Air Force base at Akrotiri. To be drifting along on a relatively calm sea in one of the world’s slowest forms of transport and to be ‘buzzed’ by a flight of some of the world’s fastest planes must be a unique experience.