We set off and set the jib, on a close reach to Nea Artaki, just a few miles across the bay. The wind came and went, sometimes barely a F3, then at times gusting well into F5, so that we were making nearly 6 knots. The harbour was full of local boats, and the fishing quay was full too. We decided to anchor opposite the fishing quay, out of the way of the fishermen, but very protected. It was quite hot, and we waited until 1700 hrs to go ashore. We had located Lidl with the aid of our phone/internet connection, which otherwise was going up and down like a yoyo. It was further than it looked on Google Maps (about a mile along the main road to the north), and we were relieved to see the familiar logo up ahead. The shop was well organised, the fruit and veg looked good as well. We however gathered what we had come for, plus a good load of meat, so we will be well provisioned for the next month bar fresh goods. The next Lidl will be on Kos!
But oh! What a mistake! Lulled all summer by the sight of fishing boats everywhere tied up to the quay, we did not realise that this was different! During the day, the quay was full. There was the odd sign, for example a small group gathering under a tree to say their prayers at lunch time. A van, and people around the boats and nets. During the day, the one gap opposite us had been filled. As we went to bed we noticed that most of the boats had gone, and by the middle of the night (woken by a mosquito) the quay was empty. In the early hours they returned. Lights were shone, shouts were exchanged, and noise continued unabated as they unloaded their catch, until at 0550, it was 'Allah Akbar!' Sung, fortunately without the aid of a loudspeaker. We thought we were in Greece, where the folks are Orthodox Christians, and the seas mostly beautifully clear but dead. The dolphins should have given us the clue!
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| Some of the fishing boats, back on their berths in the morning | Looking out towards Nea Artaki harbour: Fuga is anchored on the left of the picture |
We eventually went ashore as planned, to explore, buy some vegetables, and hopefully to get Mo's hair cut. At first we set off northwards along the sea front, and then cut inland. There was a church in a square and some restaurants, but not much else. We returned to the harbour, and walked south. There are a large number of tavernas here, all empty now the season is really finished. We took some photos of the harbour, noting that the tide was out! There is a range of about 0.8m here. Striking in again, we found the business district. The hairdresser declined to cut Mo's hair: she had a long haired and variegated client in the chair already. We found a fish shop, and bought some fish, but the price was 20euros/kg: way high! As lunch time was approaching, we abandoned the hair and settled for a supermarket, where we bought some expensive veg and some other incidentals.
After our own lunch, back on board, we set off for Khalkis. The wind was not really trying, so the jib was only giving us 2 knots, and we motored. In the narrow channel leading to the bridge, there was a considerable current, it being near springs. The pilot recommended alongside or bows to mooring along the middle of the eastern quayside: north and south is too shallow according to the chart, with only 2 metres alongside in the middle. We made a pass at the quayside, picking up a south bound eddy close in, and set ourselves up to come alongside on the quay northwards against the eddy and the wind. We crossed the current again and approached the quay at considerable speed, but it all worked out ok. There were heavy bollards spaced far apart, and between them some strong points in the pavement, one of which had been pulled out and was dragging a small loose ball of concrete. There were also some rusty stub ends set in the quay wall. We secured Fuga with a number of long lines, making use of a handy cast iron bench bolted to the pavement. The depth of water where we berthed was however 3m at mid tide. Two large local yachts were occupying a good proportion of the quay space, so we were perhaps lucky that we were the only 'mobile' yacht around. I would not have wanted to anchor (anchoring is prohibited, according to the chart) across the stream.
I set off to find the port police where noted on the chart and pilot on the west bank across the bridge. There was a building with an anchor outside, no signage, and locked, so I went into the nearby taverna. The girl spoke no English, but indicated a group of four guys drinking at a table. They spoke English, and knew where the Port Police now are. They occupy smart new premises, with a red roof, on the east side approximately 100 metres SSE from the end of the bridge: the entrance is off a narrow road facing west. I paid the bridge fee of 18euros. The coastguard could not tell me when the bridge might open, merely to keep radio watch on channel 12 from 2200 hrs, and a chap would come and tell us when to get ready. She referred me to a colleague downstairs to get my transit log stamped, with entries laboriously entered into a large ledger that can be of little use to anyone these days. He did accept that we were leaving so gave me the necessary exit stamp at the same time. On my way back slightly inland I found Mo a hairdresser, and having arranged for a cut, hurried down to fetch her and show her the way to the shop.
We enjoyed the ambience at Khalkis. It is a big town, and down by the waterfront there was a real buzz as people met up for a drink at one of the many tavernas. There was a road safety event aimed at children on the quayside nearby. Music was playing, clowns were tumbling, a girl on stilts, and baloons being given out, creating a lively atmosphere. We relaxed with a drink, and enjoyed our fish supper.
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| The sliding bridge at Khalkis from the south |
What followed was quintessentially Greek. We went on radio watch at 2200 hrs. There were no lights on the bridge at all: neither 'do not pass' nor the fixed white in the middle, but there were blue lights under the bridge at low level. I checked in on the radio, and was told that we would be told what to do, but they still did not know when. A guy did appear around 2215 and told us that we would be following two coastguard patrol vessels moored up nearby. He suggested we would probably go at around 2345. We had removed some of our lines already, but when Mo noticed some activity on one of the patrol boats not many minutes later, we started to make preparations. The bridge was still closed, but the 'pass to the south' pattern of green/white/green had appeared. We never received any further instruction, but when the first patrol boat left its berth, we cast off too. We were keen not to delay proceedings, so took up station behind the first boat, while the second left its berth as the bridge opened, and throttled towards the gap. The boat we were following initially went to follow, then stopped to tell us that there was no hurry, and we should go slower. We suppose he was afraid we were going to try to make the gap before him, as if we could! Once through the bridge, we radiod that we were clear, but it was unnecessary as we realised that 'pass to the north' red/white/red was also being shown at the same time as 'pass to the south'! A solitary yacht was waiting to go north on the other side. We anchored in the bay to the west of the bridge, and were relieved to be in bed by 2330. Maybe we were lucky the Coastguard boats wanted to get through, and we did not have to wait until midnight or worse, or maybe it was slack water.
We were slow coming to, and had some re-stowing to do with the proceeds from our Lidl shopping trip, so it was relatively late before we got under way. Eretria we decided would not be too ambitious, and we had heard from Delphine that there was a laundry there. This would be a bonus in view of our restricted water supplies. We motored out under the suspension bridge, past the cement works, and across the bay to Avlida Point. It was strange only having a few metres under us, and we wondered how the concrete carriers and other coasters managed in these waters. Once we had emerged from the narrows we set sail, and made a course for Eretria on a broad reach. Having acquired some weights and a lure, I was able to set the fishing line up, although without any success. At first, we anchored off the beach at the north east corner of the harbour, but as this was subject to some swell, we decided to move to the west side of the harbour. We anchored, and went for a walk ashore, mainly to locate fuel and the laundry. The town is quite busy, but the tavernas around the harbour looking rather sad devoid of tourists. We returned to make supper, and as we sat in the cockpit, there was a snatching sensation which I could not understand. Thinking the chain was around an obstruction, I let more chain out. It continued, and then we appreciated that the wind had veered and we were lying towards the breakwater in shallower water. We were touching bottom, although the depth sounder was still giving us plenty of water. Somehow the 'offset' had been cleared! We had to wriggle ourselves off the putty, and pick up the anchor, to return once again to our original spot, albeit with 'less water' because of the adjusted depth sounder. We enjoyed our delayed supper.
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| The spit protects the natural harbour at Voufalo |
We picked Voufalo as a not too ambitious objective. The wind was behind us, and we set the jib and put out the fishing line in the hope of catching some supper. We anchored in Voufalo in the centre of the attractive little natural harbour. The village seemed quite busy, and was larger than we had expected in view of its situation amongst the high and mountainous deserted coastline surrounding it. We did not go ashore.
While we had been expecting a NE wind, there was everything but. To start with we motored, raising the main when a little breeze filled in, but from astern. Later it freshened and backed to the SW, so we were able to sail. The lack of wind provided an opportunity to pick up e-mails, using the phone. The town of Marathon lay on the hills to the west, and we could see the extensive recent fire damage to the trees around it. The wind had freshened a bit and we were going quite well when a fish came on the line, but we lost it. Later we caught three more mackerel, the last as we came in to the bay towards the harbour. We had decided to dodge through the Petalioi islands, to shorten the distance and add a bit of interest. The chart showed little detail, and barely adequate depths, although the pilot guide did not appear to indicate any problem. The passage between Nisos Xero was quite wide, and down the middle we found least depths of 10 metres. By this time the wind was in the SSE, and we had had to take a reef in, so we motored down this channel. Once through the wind dropped, and we shook out the reef and beat our way south and east and around Paximadi Pt into Karystos bay. The harbour in Karystos was crowded with local boats, and the central quay area said to be used by the ferries was being dug up. There was some space in the outer harbour, and on the outside of the northern breakwater, but this was otherwise occupied by the fishing fraternity. We opted to anchor a mile to the west. Once we had run over it, fortunately at sufficient depth that we did not get entangled, we spotted a net near the shore. The barbeque came out to deal with the mackerel, which were meaty and tasty.
Woken by repeated hails of 'Captain'. The fisherman had come to retrieve his net, and seemed to think we were in his way. Although the wind had changed from our first anchoring, and we had swung, we were still nowhere near it. The local population of octopus and squid should have enjoyed the heads and bones of the mackerel overnight. Plagued by flies, and a smell that indicated that we might be downwind of the town's sewage system.
The wind kept veering between NNW and SSE for most of the day. It was dull and miserable for most of the time, with some sharp spats of rain. We put the canvas cover over the saloon top to avoid water coming in through the windows, and this meant we could not see out at all. We passed the time: Mo alternately reading and doing her killer Sodukus and me messing about on the computer. Using the cable connection to the phone I was getting a much more reliable link than using the bluetooth. We lunched late, off mackerel of course, but still delicious cold with salad. We had considered moving, mainly to get away from the sewage smell, but the wind was getting up as forecast towards evening, and we were happy to have an anchor that seemed well dug in. We continued amusing ourselves, and I tried Skype to ring my sisters, and unsuccessfully to get through to Peter.
The following morning the wind was up to F6 gusting 7, and increasing. I used Skype to talk to Jacqui in NZ and Peter in the UK: it worked well and cost very little to ring the land lines at the other end. My prepaid internet ran out at 1100 hrs, so after that I was back to reading again. A rather dry book by General Sir John Hackett (and other military/diplomatic chaps) written in 1982 (following another in 1978) about World War 3 set in 1985. Interesting in forecasting the collapse of the Soviet Union, and in its comments about many of the hotspots some of which have been at least partially resolved (e.g. South Africa), and other situations that have developed since. Mo solved Killer 888, which she had done once before, but which had since been eluding her.
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| Evening light illuminates Mount Ochi. Karystos lies below it. 'Light cloud indicates northerly wind'! |
More mackerel and hard boiled egg for lunch, with bread from the freezer. After lunch we deployed the kedge as a second bower. Mo waited for the boat to veer in the required direction and then motored smartly up so that I could lay it. We felt more secure with it out, and the boat veered about less on the anchors. At least it was sunny and we could sit in the cockpit under the hood, and sunbathe. We had taken the cover off the saloon to avoid damage in the increasing wind, so at least we could see out again. I had spotted that the link in our chain had gone rusty, so despite the wind I managed to clean it up, Jelonite it, and then paint it with Hammerite. Maybe that will slow the rot. We are out of potatoes: they went on the first mackerel meal. Supper was beef casserole from the freezer (unfortunately fortified but not cooked with wine which had gone slightly sour) with rice. The wind was getting up more, so we decided to deploy the NavMon program on anchor watch. NavMon recorded a period of two hours in the early part of the night with a full gale blowing and gusts, one of 54knots. The boat was gyrating wildly and we were glad of the extra security provided by the kedge and NavMon. It settled back to F7 and lower for the rest of the night, and it seemed almost peaceful.
I was just awake, and hoping that the wind was going away, when the inverter low battery alarm sounded: the result of running instruments and the computer overnight (in addition to fridge and freezer). You can't ignore it, so I got up and started the generator. Our expensive AGM batteries bought in 1997 are effectively reduced to a quarter of their nominal capacity now, and have performed no better than the (almost but not quite as expensive) Gel batteries they replaced. The boat veered in a gust, and something fell out of Mo's cupboard and knocked over what remained of my second cup of tea, forcing a rapid exit from the bed to enable the sheets to be soaked using our dwindling supply of water.
Optimism about an early cessation of wind was soon quashed, as the wind rose in strength and maintained a full F7/F8 for a couple of hours, before reducing slightly. It was still gusting into the mid 30's as the sun went down a second time.
By the following morning, the wind had died down. We left our anchorage and motored over to Karystos, and dropped anchor off the harbour entrance, so that we could row ashore onto the western mole. The harbour was busy, with large fishing trawlers alongside taking most of the available space (the middle mole being torn up and works not actually in progress). We walked along to the castle, then in through the square and back one or two blocks. We found a magnificent large church, with a pleasant paved walkway between the one-way roads leading to and from it. Nearby we found a good supermarket. The town was busy with good shops. On our way back to the boat, we stopped by a fish shop and bought a couple of large specimens at a fraction of the price we had paid in Nea Artaki for more miserable specimens. We found two more fish shops after that: plenty of choice at reasonable prices. The harbour front had a number of pleasant looking tavernas, and the beach outside the harbour looked positively inviting. We concluded it was a thoroughly nice place, but with southerly winds forecast in the offing we decided that we might be better off elsewhere.
After lunch, during which almost all the trawlers had left, we set off for Porto Rafti, on the mainland. The wind was very unpredictable, and constantly circled coming in from every conceivable point of the compass, making sailing almost impossible. We motored for a considerable part of the journey, but did manage to sail a little when it at last settled down from the south, F3. Having left so late, we had little option but to keep our speed up if we were to arrive in daylight. We dropped anchor off Port Rafti, with loads of room, off the moorings. The fish, cooked on the barbeque, were absolutely wonderful.
We spent the morning on board. Mo gave me a much needed haircut. In mid afternoon we went ashore to explore. Port Rafti is close to Athens, and the extensive water front of the attractive bays has been developed with villas and apartments. The harbour has many small boats on moorings, but the 'port' facilities are minimal. We needed both fuel and water, but there was no indication of how they might be obtained. There was a coastguard patrol vessel occupying much of the useful part of the quay. Some of the quay had collapsed and was untenable. There were one or two restaurants, a chandlery of sorts, but very little else. We enjoyed what turned out to be a long walk around the bay, inland a bit, then back. Close up, aside from some well cared for and smart properties, there was much to be disappointed about: vinyards and orchards that had been let go, building projects that have been discontinued, and rubbish left around. As an anchorage, however, it was superb, and its proximity to Athens airport would make it a good crew changeover rendezvous.