Cutting the Dragon's Tail

by Lynda Chidell

  About this time, we discovered that the freezer pump was not functioning properly and decided to put into Paphos to rectify it while we still had the benefit of Cypriot facilities. This was not nearly the hardship it might have been, in that our bridge playing had made us a number of friends in the town. As the repair took a while to effect, we had the bonus of five days in their company. On our second day in Paphos, which is rather exposed in certain directions, we found ourselves with a dragging bow anchor and a stern repeatedly hitting the quay wall. We had to use the engine for forty-five minutes, to hold ourselves off the quay while our second anchor was laid for us by a Lebanese fisherman. Once this was holding, our first anchor was relaid, so we had the security of two anchors out. Confident that our holding was finally good enough, we left the boat for a night to join Jerry and Pat Seavers at their home in the hills. Jerry had been a senior officer in the RAF and had retired to Cyprus. One of his many interests was sports cars, and he had built himself a Bugatti as his runabout. He had also been involved in the building of a light aircraft. I did not see this, but David was very impressed.

  Five days later, we set off from Paphos with an east-north-easterly forecast of ten to fifteen knots. Sadly those light airs never appeared and we ended up motoring or motor-sailing for forty-two hours before deciding to head into Kaş on the Turkish coast, once again. We were greeted like long-lost friends by the harbour master– indeed our invitation to take tea aboard was accepted with alacrity. Being the first boat of the season to arrive in an area has its advantages. This time the clearances were effected very quickly. We were issued with our cruising documents, which meant that we were now committed to cruising up the Turkish coast rather than Greek island hopping, as had been our intention.

  We tried to take in as many new ports, bays and anchorages as possible. These included Karacaören, Baba Adasi, Serçe, Kargi, Knidos, Gümüşük, and Talianaki. Where possible, we tried to sail rather than use the engine.

  Our next leg involved passing through the strait between the island of Samos and the Turkish mainland. We had been sailing with a steady force three to four on the approach, but by the time we were lined up at the entrance, the wind had increased to force six, dead astern, and the water was quite choppy. At one point our log showed we were touching nine knots. The nearest port along the coast was Kuşdasi, but David did not fancy the entry there with the following wind. We decided, therefore, to take shelter in the lee of Samos, at Mourita Bay. Technically this was not legal, as we had no clearance for being in Greek waters. However, we were not going ashore, merely sheltering from adverse winds.

  We visited several more anchorages in Turkey before clearing out at the port of Çeşme. The procedure would have been relatively simple but for the fact that the harbour officials tried to fleece David for more than they were due. The customs officers discovered a discrepancy in the figures on the paperwork; this meant that David had to cover double the usual amount of ground visiting every official department twice, taking three and a half hours to do so. The actual harbour dues were L2,500 and the harbour master had tried to take L14,000!

  Our port of entry in Greece was Mandraki on Khios. There we were joined by the Danish boat Jo. This lovely ex-trawler had been painstakingly restored by a group of young Danes. They took it in turns to sail Jo for several months at a time with other young friends. When we first met her she was being skippered by a nineteen year-old girl. Most of her crew were students taking time out to do something adventurous.

  We didn’t remain long in Khios, but headed for the island of Ouinoussa. The large bay there was used mainly as a merchant naval training centre. The island was owned, we understood, by the well-known shipping families of Greece, and used by them in the summer months as a retreat. It was very quiet. We planned this to be our last cruising call for the year as our next stop was Lesbos, from where we hoped David would fly home for a miracle cure.

  We were met, on arrival in Mitilini, by the port police and instructed where and how to anchor Tin Hau. Even though it was now mid-May, there were relatively few boats in the port. Among them were two British flagged vessels, Sagittaire, sailed by Bill and Janet, and Thalassa, sailed by James. We came to know James very well over the following months.

  In a matter of days it became obvious that, though Mitilini was ideal in many respects, the harbour staff were not content to have a boat tied up in one place for long. If David were to leave me here, I was in danger of having to shift Tin Hau myself or with the help of people who did not know her handling characteristics as we did. We were not happy with this possibility, so we decided to look around the island for a more suitable berth.

  Our first anchorage was in Skala Loutra in the Gulf of Yeras, in the company of Thalassa and Ping, the latter being Freedom-rigged. James was making for the western islands of the Sporades group, and managed to persuade us that they were worth visiting. As we had not yet found anywhere which suited our needs, we agreed that we would sail more or less in company to Sigri, and spend a night or two there prior to making the crossing to Skopelos. James peeled off at Plomarion to make a telephone call to the UK. We carried on, in worsening weather conditions, before finally deciding to take refuge in the Gulf of Kalloni. We actually spent four full days anchored off the island of Erimonisi with strong winds buffeting the boat and listening to a screaming wind generator. Though we only recorded winds varying between force seven and eight, we were receiving severe gale warnings and reports of very high seas. We finally pulled out on the fifth day and made our way to Sigri, where we found a shattered James. He had continued on to Sigri in the worst of the weather, and had been knocked down. He thought his last hour had come when he discovered water pouring in through an open porthole in the heads. We allowed a couple of days for the sea to go down, and for James to lick his wounds, before attempting the passage to the island of Peristera.

  From then on we decided we would just hope to meet up with Thalassa rather than be worrying about James or he about us when planned meetings did not happen. We left Sigri together and headed out into a still high and lumpy sea but with a reasonable forecast of a force four to five north-easterly in the north-east Aegean and force three to four north-westerly in the north-west Aegean. Although the Greek Waters pilot we used suggested we might hear forecasts in English, we seldom came across one. I learned to take the forecast from the Greek. We logged seventy-four miles as we entered the Northern Sporades. Twenty-two hours after leaving Sigri, we were snugly anchored with three charter yachts in Vasiliko Bay on Peristera.

  James had headed off to Skiros, hoping to catch up with us in Skopelos a few days later. We, meanwhile, were content to potter about for a day or two, visiting little bays on Peristera and Alonnisos. On 31st May we dropped our hook in Agnonda Bay on Skopelos. The following day we moved on to Panormou Bay, where we hoped to meet up with James again. The picturesque anchorage was full of boats, mainly flotilla charterers, and we had to place ourselves in a decidedly uncomfortable spot. Within minutes of setting our anchors, we were visited by a small wooden craft bearing what appeared to be a local fisherman. In fact this gentleman turned out to be Vangelis, a quite well-known and somewhat sought-after individual, who was the central character in The Gates of the Wind, a book set in Skopelos.

  Our anchor didn’t hold all that well. Being tied to the shore as well meant that we were badly affected by beam winds. We were not happy with the anchorage in Panormou and planned to leave as soon as we had breakfasted. Vangelis came down early that morning and was horrified that we were contemplating leaving his domain so soon. He begged us to postpone our departure, saying that he would set us up in the prime anchorage in the bay. He kept his word on this and we were soon snuggled into a very secure holding.

  We learned that we had found an absolute gem in Vangelis. It was his usual policy to ignore boats coming into his anchorage (yes, he owned all the land surrounding it and more besides), but Tin Hau had really caught his eye. He owned a lovely wooden sailing boat
of his own, and was fascinated by things nautical. When he heard where we had been and what we had done with Tin Hau, he was even more disposed to be friendly.

  David was woken many a morning to help Vangelis bring in his nets. I was taught (both in his cottage and aboard Tin Hau) how to prepare and cook ‘proper’ Greek food. It was not unusual to be hailed by a shrill whistle and virtually ordered to ‘come for squids’; a meal of calamari and skordalia would follow. Or stuffed tomatoes would be brought to the boat ready cooked, for us to share a meal with him. Occasionally the makings of a meal would be left for me to deal with – as on the day I found an octopus crawling over the deck. I had to be shown how to prepare it for dinner. We met Helmut and Heidi Gabriel, Austrian guests renting Vangelis’s waterside cottage, and found ourselves in yet more congenial company.

  A message reached us that James would be staying a while in Skiros as he had, while climbing aboard Thalassa in the dark one night, tripped and fallen, breaking several ribs in the process. Our few days on Skopelos turned into two weeks and we were enjoying ourselves so thoroughly that we really did not wish to leave. However, we were running short of gas, and were still no nearer finding the ideal place for me to be left with the boat. Tandy and her friend Kay were due to visit us soon and we needed to be able to let them know where we were going to be. It seemed sensible to plan a return to Skopelos after a period of further exploration and provisioning. We had dined, one evening, aboard a boat belonging to friends of Vangelis based in Volos. They gave us an open invitation to visit them should we ever be in their home port. To Volos, then, we decided to go.

  We were happy to be saying ‘so long’ rather than ‘goodbye’ to Vangelis, as we sailed out of his beautiful bay. Heidi and Helmut sailed the eight miles to Skiathos with us and returned to Loutraki on the ‘Flying Dolphin’ later that day. We heard from them later that it was the highlight of their holiday that year.

  We stopped briefly in a number of places including Koukounaria, Pegadi and Vathoudi on our journey into the Gulf of Volos. We delayed our arrival in port by a day, to allow the Greeks to recover from election mania. Tied up at the outer breakwater just astern of us was a wooden sailing boat called Hekla, owned by Klaus, who was resident in a nearby town. Klaus was very hospitable. Beside taking us to his home, he treated us to a rare trip inland, up Mount Pelion in the Thessalian mountains. Described in a Greek travel manual as ‘a real hanging garden between the blue of heaven and the emerald of the sea’, it was, indeed, a magical place.

  Volos itself proved to be quite a large city. The harbour was commercially important and generally full of cargo boats. We had discussions with the harbour master on the suitability of Volos for a long-term stay, and he was encouraging to the point of offering to arrange a job for me as an English teacher! We were, by then, well into the summer and enjoying the cruising so much that we decided to carry on a while longer before making decisions about where to stop for David to return home. He had short-listed Porto Kheli in the Saronic as a likely stopping point. (We had anchored there years earlier and remembered it well.) On 24th June, in a flat calm, we motored out of the Gulf of Volos and back to Koukounaria on Skiathos. The following day we sailed back to our special berth in Panormou.

  Vangelis greeted us with the news that James had been in and then pushed on to Skiathos. Tandy and Kay arrived for their brief visit, and spent most of their time snorkelling, lazing on a nearby beach, trying to hitch rides into discos in Skopelos, and generally disapproving of the wonderful peace and tranquillity of our lovely anchorage.

  At sunset on the first day of July, we were delighted to see Cusar sail into the bay. They came right over and moored alongside – quite like old times. They had arrived with a mission – to try to get to meet Vangelis! Friends of theirs had been sailing in and out of Panormou for years trying to do just that, but had never been successful. Imagine their surprise when they discovered that we could introduce them. Vangelis was more than pleased to have yet another galley to cook in, and more galley slaves wanting to learn the art of Greek cuisine. James returned in time for the Fourth of July celebrations. Rick and Sheila took his references to British Thanksgiving in good part, and a good party was enjoyed by all.

  That party was also a farewell to Skopelos, because we had decided to take Tandy and Kay over to Skiathos to try to satisfy their craving for a busier nightlife. We could not persuade them to carry on with us for a longer cruise. They preferred, instead, to leave us in Skiathos and continue their travels through Europe by train. After their departure, there was little to keep us from heading south.

  Rick and Sheila sailed across to Skiathos and we had a final meal with them before starting out for Skiros. We stopped in Skantzoura through lack of wind, then moved on to Linaria Cove on Skiros. The anchorage there was particularly evil – both anchors dragged. It was only in the shallows that we could get clear of weed. We went by bus into Skiros town from Linaria.

  The fifty-mile sail from Skiros to Gavrion on Andros was great. There was a gentle breeze astern for the first three and a half hours, followed by a moderate following wind for the remaining eight. The autopilot was able to cope with the sailing and sea conditions, so we had little to do other than watch the world go by. We experienced gale force gusts on the approach to Gavrion and were happy to anchor off the beach near Lady Catrin. Liz and Robert had been ‘sheltering’ in this anchorage for days, with Lady Catrin tied to a telegraph pole on shore for extra security. The wind howled as it tore down from the surrounding hills and raced across the bay. Robert did not believe that there were pleasant sailing conditions outside. We spent a further day there, and were joined by six more cruising boats. Finally convinced that it was okay outside, Lady Catrin crept out of the anchorage at the same time as we left. From that day onward, we termed such anchorages ‘Robert Holes’.

  Destination Sounion. The bay itself turned out to be so crowded with yachts that there was no room for us. We anchored off Arki instead, but the holding was so poor that we dragged twice and had to keep an anchor watch all night long.

  Our first Saronic island was Dhokos. The anchorage at Skindos Bay was awful. To quote the log: ‘Checked anchor by diving. Sitting badly. Pull with engine to reset. Drags. Re-anchor with Danforth. Drags. Re-anchor with Northill. Drags. Decide to give up east side of bay and motor one mile to cove in NW of bay. Drop in 10 m, with 40 m of chain. Also tie to rocks. Seems okay now.’ We only dared to stay one night before moving round to Porto Kheli. What changes had taken place there! The fondly-remembered small village, comprising a few houses served by a taverna, bakery and butcher’s shop had turned into a massive development which sprawled right around the enclosed bay. Approximately one quarter of the water surface was laid out with buoys for yachts to tie to. The rest was designated for other water activities such as paragliding, water and jet skiing and so on. This was not the place for me to stay in either. We would just have to continue our passage round the Greek islands till we found what we sought. There was nowhere else in the Saronic area that we considered suitable. The decision, then, was whether to transit the Corinth Canal (expensive and we had done it before), or to round the ‘dreaded capes’ of the Peloponnese peninsula.

  The latter option was chosen. Tin Hau duly sailed southward for about thirty-five miles before turning into an incredibly scenic lagoon at Ieraka. The views from the steep hill above the village were quite stunning. Even the patchwork of walled fields on the hilltop itself was worth seeing. Returning, at sunset, to a meal at the excellent taverna on the beach, locals told us that the lively summer population dwindled to a mere fourteen souls in winter (all men). Much as we’d have liked to have stayed, we left the next day, bypassed Monemvasia, rounded Cape Malea with a good following breeze, and sailed to an anchorage at Elaphonisos.

  With the weather still in our favour, we crossed the Gulf of Lakonika to Porto Kaio, and anchored overnight before rounding Cape Matapan and heading north to an anchorage at Limeni in the Gulf of Messinia. A mixed
forecast suggested the weather might not hold much longer, so we didn’t dally at Limeni, but crossed the gulf, sailed by Cape Akritas, and made our way to Longos. There we found buoys, floating platforms and fencing all over the area we believed to be available for boats to anchor. A motor boat later appeared and tied up to this strange structure. David hopped in the dinghy and went over to find out what it was all about. It turned out to be a government-sponsored fish farm. The owner, a retired naval commander, lived in Methoni; he invited us to visit his home the following day. We duly anchored off Methoni and met up with the commander at the appointed time and place. He drove us out to his almond farm, where we sat on his terrace and watched the sun set over a distant Tin Hau while eating garlic toast and drinking ouzo in the company of his family.

  As the following day, 25th July, was my birthday, we were delighted to receive our new-found friend aboard Tin Hau accompanied by his tax inspector. I doubt the latter gentleman had been warned of this visit, as he was dressed in a very smart suit and shiny leather shoes. Yemanja II was anchored close by, so Rick and Julie were also able to come over and swell the numbers for an afternoon tea party. It was a couple of days before the winds were suitable for the journey northwards into the Ionian.

  We made our way from Methoni, via Proti, to the isle of Zakinthos (Zante). Apart from the shock of meeting with western Mediterranean prices – such as astronomical charges for laundry and stainless steel welding – we had nine happy days pottering about the coast. We met interesting people such as Johnny and Vanessa, who were starting up a dinghy sailing club offering activity holidays. Friends of theirs, Claire and Ian Ferguson, were staying with them while on a sort of working holiday. Claire was collecting recipes for a new cookery book, while Ian was preparing himself for the start of another business venture. They joined us for some afternoon sails while we were in the area, and there was a very real possibility of Ian joining us for a longer sail at a later date.