if you do not want to become a fender!
The plan was to the head for Ormos Ay Nikolaos, where it looked as if we might find a berth for the night. We spent the morning relaxing. I went exploring the new harbour works under the headland at Kateleleios in the dinghy, but did not go ashore as the 'harbour' area under the original quay was infested with numerous swimmers with no other convenient landing available. There appeared to be a marked 'boat channel' but I decided against upsetting anyone or causing injury.
We set off peacefully enough, shaking out our reefs, with an easterly wind that gave us 6 knots on a broad reach. It was not to last. As we cleared the southern side of Cephalonia, we began to feel a significant north westerly swell which combined with that from our easterly breeze to give us an uncomfortably chaotic sea, as the wind fell away behind us. At this point, I collected some scalding coffee on the wrist flicked out by the mainsheet as it was in transit from Mo's hand to mine. We began to motor, leaving the sail up, and for the first time (would you believe) noticed that the roach on the fully battened main actually interfered with the backstay. Was it the re-rig, or simply lack of backstay tension (and therefore bend of the mast)? We tried to inhibit the slapping and banging with a preventer, then decided to take a reef in to avoid the problem. One of the battens managed to shake loose and half come out above the first spreader, but fortunately we were able to haul the sail down past the spreader without damaging the sail or losing the batten.
We arrived at Ay Nikolaos, where there are numerous grockle boats taking holidaymakers to see the caverns along the northern coast (and they certainly looked interesting). Various people were trying to anchor, and we did not fancy the only available bit of quay that looked as if it would be really noisy. Once again, the dinghy was in the way in its davits. We tried anchoring off the island of Ay Nikolaos, gave up, then anchored south of the stub quay just south of the main 'harbour'. A small Croation yacht had picked the best spot, and so constrained we anchored and swam a line to the shore. The anchor went down, deep, in weed and with a snorkle it was easy to see that we had been doing some gardening down there. Needless to say, the anchor did not hold with insufficient scope and weed around it, in the face of the now freshening afternoon breeze. We had to abandon our lunch, abort the anchorage (cutting my other hand on the rock as I untied the rope), and decided to settle for Zakinthos instead, some 10 nm further south. After lunch we sorted the sail and batten out, and made sail just as a Halberg came past. I tried very hard to pinch its wind, and overtake it, without success, but it kept me entertained all the way to Zakinthos.
We took a quick look at the marina, which is surely a misnomer. There were a few small local boats on the north west quay, some larger motorboats on the south west, and no facilities apparent. We then had a look in the main harbour, but decided that as we still had the dinghy up there in davits, we would simply go and anchor outside for the night
We spent a slightly uncomfortable night anchored outside Zakanthos. We were ahead of ourselves, so to speak, since David was due to arrive on Thursday 14th, and we had planned to spend that night at Ay Nikolaos. We dediced on a trip down to Porto Roma, where Rod Heikell extolled the virtues of the anchorage, and where we could swim more happily. It was indeed a pretty spot, infested during the day by parascenders, and boats giving rides on various shapes and sizes of bumpy toy, not to mention the ubiquitous jet-ski. These of course disappeared during the evening, but on this occasion the wind shifted to the east so that we had another fairly lively night.
We had noticed that the north eastern quay in Zakinthos was full when we had arrived there on Monday, so decided to make our way back to arrive around lunchtime, when we thought there was the best chance of finding a vacant berth. We had a pleasant sail, beating gently to windward. As we had hoped, there was a space alongside the German yacht that we had been shadowing from Katelios, and we were beckoned in by a 'berthing master' on the quay. We dropped our bower, and all went well until we found that I had misjudged the distance and we ran out of chain two or three metres short of the quayside. We should really have picked the anchor up again, and fetched it in a bit, but instead we tried to go onto rope.
The forward locker is overcrowded, as it still hosts both the Bruce anchors that we no longer use, one with some chain, to say nothing of a large power washer (not used since the UK!), a lump of hardwood that served the previous owner Bernard as an outboard bracket, two empty petrol cans, a fender and line for use as a trip line with anchor buoy, and a plastic life ring recovered from the English Channel and which may one day appeal to the grandchildren as a water toy.. Most of the junk had to be removed before we could release the first bight of anchor warp and coax it through the hawse pipe up to the winch.
Eventually we were settled down: the attachment to the quay is a heavy chain lying between the remains of the old infrequently spaced bollards, through or around which you shore lines have to be threaded. Our 'long lines' needed to be extended to reach, so that the knots then made it hard to pull us back into the quay and make fast. Our man in charge relieved us of our Greek Transit log and 30 for two nights, and he returned it later that night stamped up by the Port Police, and somewhat mysteriously an official invoice (in Greek, and therefore undecipherable) for just under 10€. The water in the harbour is murky and clouded, such that you cannot see the bottom or the rudder. There was a large lump of ballast rock just visible behind our neighbour, and both Fuga and our German neighbour touched 'bottom' with our rudders at low tide, and we both tried (unsuccessfully) to prevent this by pulling forward. Our next problem was to get ashore: the quay was too high and too far away to either jump from the transom, or for our ladder to reach. We rigged a temporary 'trapezium' using the topping lift and lines down to our ladder, which perched precariously with its wheels on the lip of the transom, to nearly reach the quayside. Mo declined to go ashore until she really had to! I tried to connect the electricity, but could not make our standard plug fit.. then realised the fee was an additional 5€ per day and decided to manage with the generator as usual. Enterprise is alive and well on Zakynthos! Although there are water taps, these are padlocked, and released occasionally by an attendant upon payment of a fixed 5€ fee. A water tanker actively canvases for business and people invariably agree to a delivery: the cost of water obtained this way is considerably higher, being charged by the time taken to deliver the water (our neighbour quoted 35€ for 1000 litres). At least two mini fuel tankers also canvas for business. One irate motor boat owner was charged for the delivery of a quantity of air when the tanker ran out of fuel - he eventually settled on a compromise amount. In a further incident, the large tripper boat (c. 300 passengers) returned to its unmarked (save for a dinghy left there) berth, half way along the quay. It may have misjudged its anchoring, but nevertheless came back onto the quay, blowing down onto a Jeanneau where the designers had not envisaged its use as a heavy fender.
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| Avoid the empty berth in the centre if you do not want to become a fender! |
We were surprised when a couple from a boat moored nearby called down to us. We had last met at La Caletta (Sardinia), enjoying a convivial evening on Double Bill with Steve and Carol. John and Carol Boulter, from Aquatint, even remembered our names! After supper, they joined us on board for a drink and a useful natter: they have spent some time around the Ionian.
We went on a brief shopping trip and returned to the boat to await David's arrival on the Monarch flight from Luton. We duly received a text from him in the taxi, and Mo went ashore to meet him, and they found each other. We had a late lunch. We rigged the hammock from the spinnaker pole where David good work on his tan, the cockpit area being covered over under our sun awning. Immediately opposite, across the road, it was possible to swim off the beach at the root of the quay. In the evening, we set off to find Komis' fish restaurant in the 'marina' at the root of the main ferry quay. We shared and enjoyed two Sea Bream, served rather slowly in the fresh air, but it was not cheap, and returned to the boat at 0100 hrs. It was certainly a different dining experience, but the view was not, as Rod Heikell intimates, to die for, partly because it was dark.
We had planned to get away at a reasonable time to stop for lunch and a swim at Porto Roma. However, another British yacht was perceived to be in some difficulty trying to berth off the quayside. He had lost his propeller, which had come undone from the shaft sleeve and fallen back out onto the rudder post. He had dropped his anchor, and a lad in a rubber dinghy was trying hard to row him in to the quay against the wind. As the anchor had been let go far too far off the quay, and only having limited line on board, this exercise was doomed to failure. Our attention was drawn when another yacht came and tried to berth in his chosen space, drawing shouts of alarm. I tried to enlist the sympathy of our neighbouring German friend, who had returned with his dinghy and outboard: he was however busy getting ready to go to sea. The Italian skipper of La Pinta did try to volunteer some help with his dinghy and outboard, but gave up saying his outboard was not working properly. The British boat's skipper's (Norman) daughter was calling out from the quay, and another French lad with a small outboard on a dinghy joined in. No one was making any sense! We contributed a very long line, but it would still not reach the rower. The French lad provided a long warp, but this was in a tangle and first had to be sorted out. By this time, I abandoned rowing and went back to get the outboard mounted on our dinghy. David came with me in the dinghy. By now the lines had been joined together, but attempts to pull the anchored boat in were hopeless. A Greek marinero then became involved, trying to pull the line attached to his four wheel drive around a bollard. All kinds of disaster were shaping up, so I got noisey and shouted to everyone on land to stop pulling. I intended to get Norman to pick up his anchor, but he countered that we could just as easily pick up the anchor (which he was insisting had been dragged to its new position) for him in the dinghy. Dave and I worked our way hauling along his anchor line encountering various knots along the way. We then reached the chain, which was plastered in filthy mud, which covered both us and the dinghy. Once the anchor was raised, the shore party were able to pull the boat into the quay. We then tried to square off the anchor and let it go opposite the berth, only for La Pinta to protest that it was over his anchor. We picked it up and let it go twice more before he was happy. Covered in mud, we had to wash down the dinghy before going across the road to the beach to wash off ourselves. Matthew, a very nice French lad who we supposed to be friendly with the daughter, who had been attempting to row the boat in, managed by diving on the propeller to get it back up the shaft so that it could be re-coupled to the engine. He, I think, deserved the honours and we lent him the use of our cockpit shower.
It was nearly 1400 hrs before we eventually extricated ourselves, including the lengthened knotted warps, the Heath Robinson pasarelle, the contents of the forward locker re-stowed in a cleaned out and dry locker (nothing thrown away), the spinnaker pole and the hammock, the anchor on its rope, etc. We sailed and anchored off Porto Roma for a very late lunch and a swim, before continuing on to Ormos Keri. This lies on the west side of Koplos Lagana, a protected area on account of the loggerhead sea turtles which nest there. Anchoring is only permitted at Ormos Keri, west of the island of Marathonisi. The anchorage proved to be very attractive, and although there were a number of boats (including our German friends) there was plenty of room. David and I went ashore for a beer in one of the tavernas, while Mo prepared supper of shepherd's pie on board.
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| The beach and caves on Marathonisi attract a lot of craft |
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| Vroma is the only anchorage on the west coast |
Mo and I went ashore briefly to stock up on bread and fresh fruit, which we found at a reasonable supermarket just off the front. The beach, bars and quay were lively. On returning to the boat, we set off immediately to anchor off Marathonisi and to explore the caves. There were a lot of hired boats, and others, on the beaches and around the caves. After looking at the caves, we motored around the island, as the caves did not apppear to be the same as those we saw when sailing in. They were, of course. The wind, which had been blowing lightly from the east, changed to the north west and increased as we were in the dinghy, and I was somewhat anxious about Fuga left anchored casually on a lunch-hook basis. I need not have worried. The bottom is marked on the chart as simply 'Obstructed' with depth unknown: it is strewn with very large boulders and lumps of rock perhaps two or three metres in diameter, and in places is flat with a smattering of sand. We had something to eat, then packed up and set off for Ormos Vroma. This was now a beat, and therefore going to be quite a long sail. Towards the end, the wind died, so we motored the last bit to enter the anchorage.
Most of the visiting boats made an early exit, so we were left with just two yachts alongside us. When we did leave shortly after them at 1200 hrs, there was a nasty confused sea outside, with a very light north westerly wind against us. We short tacked up along the very attractive cliff coast of the island, looking for 'Wreck Bay'.
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| Wreck bay provides a dramatic setting | for its subject.. |
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| David could not get enough sun |
When we found it, it was worth the effort, the water being light green with the chalk from the adjacent cliffs, and the wreck embedded in the sand at the head of the bay. At this point the wind increased and backed, so that we were almost able to fetch our course towards Argostili. It was only F4 and gusting F5 occasionally, but the sea was choppy and very uncomfortable. As we approached Cephalonia, having had to put in a couple of short tacks to avoid the hazards off the entrance, the wind veered ahead, so we gave up sailing and motored the remaining miles.
There is quite a long fetch from the head of the bay, down and into the inlet where Argostoli itself is situated, so with the fresh wind there was not much peace down there. We looked at the quay, which was fully occupied. The southern end is too shallow. Opposite, Argostoli marina looked uninviting, but we decided to give it a try. We went alongside the outer breakwater. This is a concrete structure under which the water passes in places, and therefore the swell gets in. The entrance is at the exposed northwest corner, which exacerbates this. There are some smaller boats in residence, a handful of boats on the hard in various states of disrepair, some disused tripper boats, and a strange looking 'houseboat' also in build, along with a large barge. There is no sign of any activity by way of finishing the quays, provision of facilities (water or electricity), nor any laid moorings.
We made our way ashore through rough scrub to a track, which led to the road which terminates at the causeway crossing the lagoon. The town itself was buzzing with activity for a Sunday night, with smart shops open to attract the tourist. We settled for a taverna on the waterfront and enjoyed a very reasonable meal there. When we returned to the boat, Fuga was rocking and rolling on her warps, as she continued to do all night. Unless shelter is improved by construction of a breakwater to the north of the marina, it will never make a comfortable secure berth in the prevailing wind conditions.
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| Fuga feeling the wind and surge from under the pontoon.. | Exposed to the north west |
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| The 'marina' hosts boats in various states of repair, build, and the barge |
We had been thinking about a day off from sailing, and even briefly considered hiring a car to have a look around the island from shoreside. Despite being tied up in a 'marina' the crew had not had a comfortable nights sleep, so we were rather slow off the mark. A neighbouring yacht, Nocturne, had obtained a forecast the previous day which indicated even stronger winds into the evening, so we downloaded a grib file which was little better. David gave up the hammock suspended from the spinnaker pole, in favour of sunbathing on the concrete breakwater. Salt spray was coming over and through the breakwater and caking up on the boat. During the afternoon we went for a walk around the marina. There is no work going on the marina, but in one corner a team are constructing steel reinforcement and cast concrete sections for the new quay to the north west of the town: the barge and crane are all part of this operation. Across the road from the entrance to the marina we found a British Cemetry dating back to the period in the 1800's when the British controlled the Ionian islands. Later, having doubled up our bow line, we decided to go ashore to eat, this time choosing a place much frequented by local Greeeks opposite the ferry berth. Crossing the 'causeway' was hazardous, as waves were breaking against it and spray was flying across the road. The wind moderated overnight as predicted, so except for indigestion due to overeating, we all had a good night's sleep.
It was flat calm in the morning. We launched the dinghy and mounted the engine, and had a swim from the boat as the marina water did not appear too bad, there being no one there to speak of. We crossed over the harbour in the dinghy to buy some fresh supplies and one or two supermarket items. Argostoli has some very nice fruit and vegetable stalls, as well as a fish market and meat market, all in close proximity on the quayside. Afterwards, as we enjoyed a drink at a cafe bar where we had left the dinghy, we spotted some people gazing down into the water. Mo and David were in time to see a very large turtle that had been grazing off the quayside. It swam off, occasionally surfacing briefly to stick its head up for air. Returning to the boat, we diverted to investigate the new quay to the north west being built with a generous EU subsidy. presumably with the aim of attracting cruise ships in to the town? The head of the new quay, marked currently by a yellow buoy and temporary flashing lights, is at 38 11.24N 020 29.19E. Some of the piles are under water.
After lunch we set off for the anchorage in Ormos Vikha, to the east of the ferry terminal at Pesada, in order to reduce the journey for the following day. Once there we swam, and brought out the barbeque. It required a lot of cleaning up from its last use.. but we enjoyed Sardinian sausage and chicken legs, with jacket potatoes and kebabs. Unfortunately one of the chicken legs escaped overboard, such was the pile of food on there!
There was no wind when we got up in the morning, although a slight swell had kept us on the move all night. Mo and I got up and began to pack up the barbeque and other left overs from the evening before, after which we had a swim in the shallow but crystal clear water. Once that was done, we weighed anchor and got under way, as we wanted to get to Zakinthos with space on the NE quay so we could get water from the tap. After motoring for a couple of hours, a breeze came up from the north, so we were able to set the sails and made good progress for a time. Then the wind backed and died, so we had to motor once more. On the way in to Zakinthos we passed the motor yacht 'Le Grand Bleu' heading north: sheer swank with its cutter rigged cruising yacht - about 15m long at a guess (bigger than Fuga) - with associated davits to launch it off the side, and helipad with helicopter on the aft deck.
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| Le Grand Bleu | and her toys.. |