It seemed a shame to be so close, and not to see anything of Ayvalik Limani, a large bay enclosed by its offlying islands. We had a gentle sail in, but as we entered the narrow dredged entrance channel, we were passed by a large number of pleasure boats playing very loud music. The island to port is now well developed from the channel along the shore to the bridge to the mainland. We did not want to abuse Turkish hospitality, so proceeded straight to Cennet Koyu. As it happens this is the only unspoiled bay: the rest are blighted by holiday developments and hotels. We enjoyed the sail, and a lazy day.
We had thought that we would head for the western end of the north coast of Lesbos, as our jumping off point towards Limnos. Two things intervened. The skipper's unfamiliarity with the ways of Maxsea led him to believe that the route that he entered was much shorter, so that we left in a relaxed fashion and much too late. We only discovered the error of our ways en route. The other was the advertised weather. Our fellow cruisers in Mitilini had been getting excited about the forecast southerly blow, planning their shelter well in advance, and I had ventured to be quite scathing about this as we ate our banana sandwiches for lunch. On schedule, in mid afternoon, our south easterly breeze suddenly died. Mo reported that what breeze there was came from all different directions, and then it was here, from the SSW, and rapidly building to F5, later F6 and gusting F7. There was no point in bucking this in exposed water towards WSW, so we decided to cut short our sail and look for shelter.
We sniffed the harbour of Skala Sikamineas. The quay was occupied by an Irish boat we had seen in Mitilini. There was very little water in the harbour over a rocky bottom, and nowhere where we could safely anchor. So we opted to follow the coast and look for an alternative anchorage. The scenery proved to be quite pretty, with steep-to hills in the background. The beach was much favoured towards the end by al fresco sunbathers. On the foreshore was a peculiar domed building, and we supposed that this might be the thermal spa referred to in the name of the place. We anchored at the spot that I had picked out, but it was not long before we had dragged off that (a rocky bottom with little cover) and were on our way to Turkey with 30m of chain hanging down. Next time we chose a different spot a little further east, opposite a hotel, where there were some small boat moorings. This time I swam and checked the anchor, which was well buried in sand. The bay lies undee Ak Molivos, within sight of the castle above the town and port of Mithimna. We felt more secure on the north coast, as the harbour would have been too exposed from the SSW. The wind kept up until well past midnight.
Although we had a long journey planned, the Grib forecast led us to be reasonably confident of having a favourable beam reach for the latter half of the day, so we did not rush. We left the anchorage just before 0900, and with a light south easterly behind us, we motored for over two hours before the wind began to veer and strengthen. The sea to start with was confused: it was quite uncomfortable to sit at the chart table updating the web site. I was keen to use the last of my available Turkcell internet allowance as we passed the (Turkish) headland! The journey consisted of a single leg to arrive on Nisos Limnos at Ormous Moudhros, an enormous, practically enclosed, bay used as the gathering point for the Gallipoli Campaign. Along the way we encountered a little shipping, but no yachts, and enjoyed good sailing. At one point we had to reef for a while, and bowled along for much of the way at 6 knots or so. We anchored in Ormos Vourhidia, a large shallow bay offering good shelter, although in the low evening sunlight we could not see the rocky shallows in the middle, so crept in rather slowly feeling our way in as far as we could, although in practice we had to stop as a fishing net was laid across our path.
Overnight, our forecast let us down. Instead of decreasing to more or less nothing, the wind came up and blew consistently all the next day F5-6 with gusts of F7 from the SE to S. We settled down to tackle the galley floor, which is severely in need of some care. Not only does it suffer a lot of traffic, but periodically items fall out of the fridge or drawers, or off the worktop. We rubbed it down, and felt quite virtuous with one coat of varnish on it. It was still blowing quite strongly as we ate smoked salmon and scrambled egg with salad in the cockpit and watched the setting sun.
By the next morning, the wind had disappeared, but it was very damp. Cloud clung to the hilltops around us, although there was some blue sky in evidence. The hillsides look a little like Scottish moorland, but much less green, and the fields at the base are yellow and dry looking. The west of the island, and the penninsular to our south, is hilly, but around the bay much of the land is relatively low, flat and cultivated. As soon as we had breakfast and we felt it was dry enough, we put another coat of varnish on the flooring. Soon thunder began to rumble, with forks of lightning, in the hills to our west. We swung to face the wind, from south east to south west, and then later north, before swinging back to south east. We had hoped to miss the rain, but it eventually got us. However, the boat was glad of a fresh water wash down. Later in the afternoon, when the thunderstorms had cleared, we decided it was ok to motor over to Moudhros village, and anchored off in anticipation of a run ashore in the morning.
We went ashore at Moudhros village. There was a hotel and taverna behind the quayside, alongside which a Dutch yacht (Horizon III) was the only one remaining: earlier there had been a large motor yacht and a smaller sailing boat. There is water and electricity on the quay, and a fuel station in the village with a mini-tanker.
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| The impressive church dominates the village | |
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| Local fishing vessels in the small boat harbour | The inexplicable largess of the EU at work again! |
Here again we found the largesse of the EU at work. A 1.3M€ project was advertised, along with a smaller one which we think related to drainage, as the streets were being dug up. The larger project appeared to have procured a large number of concrete blocks, some arranged loosely in pairs along the foreshore. The project appears to have stalled at this juncture, there being no lifting or earth moving equipment or other evidence of life on site. What the intention of the project was can only be guessed at: the fleet of small fishing boats is happily accomodated in the existing small boat harbour.
We found a memorial plaque that commemorates the Gallipoli campaign, the presence of Australian and New Zealand field hospitals set up on the island, and records the casualties suffered by both sides. We continued uphill to find some bread, then Mo found a hairdressers. The shop was staffed by two twins, whose English was limited, but one managed to imply that she had Australian parentage! Mo was pleased with the haircut, although she felt it was a little severe. We returned on board to enjoy fresh bread for lunch, followed by more varnishing, after which we paid up for two days 'non-stop' internet connection in order to catch up with e-mail and banking. The two other French yachts in the bay had disappeared.
The next morning we were late up: I was nerdling and Mo was happy to read. Later in the morning we got under way, and crossed over Moudhros bay to the settlement of Nea Koutali on the west side. We had to anchor well off, but it was a good anchorage with shelter all but from the east, a 2.5 mile fetch from Moudhros. There is a shallow fishing harbour, and it is a pleasant place with a church and several tavernas.
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| Agatha standing outside the archaelogical museum |
We found an archaelogical museum and decided to go in. Agatha, who was looking after the desk, spoke excellent English and took us around the exhibits, explaining their significance. She explained that the settlement of Nea Koutali was founded in 1922. Prior to this there had been a New Zealand field hospital and camp there. The people were refugees from the island in the Sea of Marmara known as Koutali (from its shape like a spoon). In the 19th century the people of this small island were prosperous, being successful ship owners and merchants. They were forced off the island during the persecution, and moved as refugees to near Ankara, before returning to Koutali briefly after the Great War. In 1922 they were forced to resettle on Limnos, at Nea Koutali, and took to sponge diving as a means of making a living. The schoolmaster encouraged the divers to bring up archaeological finds that they encountered during their diving, and these were later incorporated into the museum. The exhibits of sponge fishing and old diving equipment, as well as several amphora, plates, an anchor, etc. were most interesting. We didn't venture into the Sponge exhibition nearby, but headed back to the boat with two boxes of the local wine, some bread and milk.
We had taken rather longer than we intended in the village, but it had been worthwhile. A thunderstorm was rolling around the north of the island as we returned on board, but soon 'vanished'. We motored out of the bay into the southerly wind, putting up the main to enjoy the sail along the south coast. Inevitably, as we rounded the islets at the entrance, the wind veered westerly to head us. The wind was light, and sailing was useless, so we had to continue motoring. As the wind veered even further to WNW, we realised we would have better shelter on the south coast, so anchored in Ormos Thanos (west end), in a small bay inside an islet in 5 metres, sand.
The following morning, we completed the varnishing of the galley floor, despite threatened thunder and some rain. Afterwards, in going to snorkel over some nearby rocks, one favourite flipper disappeared overboard, and I was not quick thinking enough to jump in after it. The rest of the day was spent trying to recover it, as it lay tantalisingly in 5 metres depth. I tried simply diving on it several times during the next few hours, but found that I could not equalise the pressure on my ears, which became too painful. The first attempts involved the dinghy grapnel anchor, although with chain attached, I found that as I lifted it, I sank. Having cut the chain off with the bolt cutters, I found it actually more difficult to manoevre. A couple of times I had the flipper hooked, but apart from moving it horizontally and turning it right side up, nothing was achieved. The method that finally paid off was to lower a galvanised iron shackle into the 'foot', and then lower our sea-searcher magnet (thank you, Mike) down and upto the heel, where it grabbed the shackle through the rubber, and brought the flipper up to the surface. Simple, but this process took 7 hours! The proceedings were watched throughout from close quarters by a flat fish about 10 inches long. Normally these are shy and dive under the sand for cover, but this one clearly had a rubber fetish and thought he had found the love of his life in the shape of the flipper; he must have been heartbroken to see it rise slowly away from him.
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| Mount Athos looms ahead |
We awoke to PA announcements from the ferry. It was already nearly 8 a.m. and Horizon and Souris Rose, a Maltese, an Australian and a Swiss boat had all disappeared. We had heard nothing! There was absolutely no wind, but we decided that we would make the break. We put 32 litres of fuel in the tank from our reserve supply, anticipating a lot of motoring. The Greek navy forecast could only offer southerly F2. In the end, for some brief moments we saw F3, but mostly there was virtually no wind at all. There was no shipping either: up in this corner of the Aegean there are no ports of significance. All there was to see was the occasional bit of flotsam. We did spot a blow up beach dinghy, and embarassed ourselves by taking two runs to recover it. Fortunately it was not a MOB! It had been adrift for a while and was covered in guano from the seabirds who had used it as a resting perch. It will clean up and make a beach toy for Tom and Emma. Otherwise, there was nothing to do but Suduko, watch the clouds bubble up and form over Limnos and Mount Athos. And of course write up the log. We eventually reached our anchorage in the very pretty Limin Sikias, with sandy beaches all around.