In which things get better.
We spent enough time the morning after Bailey and Michael arrived in Argostoli to see the turtles cruising the fishing boats on the town quay, do some serious provisioning, and check in and out with the Port Police. Then it was Eastward Ho! as fast as our engines would take us (light winds on the nose, as usual). We needed to make the Gulf of Patraeus, or more specifically, Galaxidi, in three days to get in a day at Delphi before Bailey and Michael had to get back to Athens for their flight. We stopped for the night in a very, very – let me say it again: VERY – narrow inlet on the south coast of Ithaca that we were going to back into with the anchor in front and lines off the back tying us to rocks on either side of the beach. This narrow inlet was also very deep and did not have a lot of sandy patches on which to drop our anchor. But we persevered, and after several tries, we got a good hold and then successfully attached our shorelines. Close into the beach the beauty of the inlet was clearer, and we were glad we went to the trouble of settling there. Crystal clear water, and good protection from the westerly that had built up as we got closer to the coast. It was a beautiful night, the sky exploding with stars above us. I think the kids slept at least part of the night up on the trampoline – I was fast asleep and snoring down in our cabin.
The next day was a slog across to the mainland of western Greece and into the Gulf of Patraeus, and the next another slog to Galaxidi. We went stern to the town quay at Galaxidi, thoroughly relieved when it went well, and we had a nice broad space to back into – my first Med mooring since we left Montenegro! Galaxidi was utterly charming – we had a long walk to explore the town and ended with a delicious dinner (moussaka for me, of course) at a traditional restaurant well off the quay.
We were up and off to Delphi in our rented car early the next day, and Delphi did not disappoint. Situated on the edge of a cliff wayyyy up the mountains about 45 minutes from Galaxidi, Apollo’s primary temple was a jaw dropper. The Oracle itself – or the cracks in the rocks in the middle of the temple – was no longer exuding the noxious and sometimes fatal gases that had caused the (female) oracles to speak in tongues*, so our delirium can only be explained by the breathtaking beauty of the site, and the exertion of climbing in the September sun to the ancient stadium high on the mountain behind the temple. We went directly from the site to the museum, where artifacts from the temple were collected along with excellent explanations of original uses, meanings, and situations. It was a one-two punch – it had been so delightful that there had been so few other tourists walking through the temple, and the (air conditioned!) museum was fascinating. It added up to a magical day of immersing ourselves in the distant past of gods and war and artistry and glory. And then we had to put Bailey and Michael on the bus to Athens. :>(
Two days later we got up at 00:darkthirty to leave Galaxidi for Kiato, where Peggy was due to arrive in six hours on the bus from Athens. Leaving in the moonless, pitch black, with boats moored throughout the narrow bay into Galaxidi and the entrance to the bay, was terrifying. Peter stood on the bow with our huge LED flashlight, trying to point out the moored boats, particularly those that had forgotten to turn on their anchor lights when they went to sleep the night before. Once out of that bay of terror Peter quickly took over the helm until the sun was up and we had Kiato in our sights, far across the gulf.
Dolphins popped up several times along the way, and we were excited: it was going to be a big day. Peggy was finally visiting us on the boat, we were going to cross through the Corinth Canal, leaving the beloved Ionian behind and entering the Aegean at long last. And we were going to meet friends from Porto Montenegro just down the coast of the Peloponnese from the Corinth for an evening of catching up and general merriment. And so it was. Peggy was there, with us on the boat! The Corinth was SO cool! And it was SO fun to meet up with Vandy and Eric from Awildian and Mads and Alisha from Seaesta Blue!
Seaesta Blue was gone by the time we dragged ourselves out of our beds the next morning, and Awildian was on its way. We got up and out and headed across to the island of Aegina, where we would have lunch in Aegina town, and then go down to the southern coast to get protection from the northerly that was supposed to be turning up later in the day. And we were utterly charmed by Aegina town – it was so cute! Delightful little side streets with pretty little shops. We would have stayed longer, but it was clear the wind was becoming even stronger, and we still had to get down around the south coast so we would be able to sit out the northerly that was coming. That northerly never came. By the time we got to a decent anchorage on the south coast in was getting very late in the day, and we had no choice but to drop anchor and wait out the southerly than had been screaming across the sea our whole way around, and weather the huge swells turning the boat into a roller coaster. By the time we managed to anchor, get together some dinner, and sit down for a minute, we were all nauseous, and my dear friend Peggy, who in our 38 years of friendship I’d never known to be seriously ill, was sending up her dinner over the rails. Trying to watch Ted Lasso on the iPad probably wasn’t the best idea, although I’d been sure it would take our minds off the boat’s heaving. At that point we all slapped a scopolamine patch behind our ears and tried to get some sleep.
It was a completely miserable night. It didn’t improve the next day. We fought strong winds and heavy swells from the southeast coast of Aegina all the way across the Saronic Gulf to the Temple of Poseidon on the southeast coast of the mainland under Athens. In addition to the wind, the waves, and the nausea, we also had to cross the shipping lanes leading in and out of Piraeus, the huge harbor west of Athens. Theoretically, since we have AIS and therefore a way of knowing whether oncoming ship traffic is a threat, in practice AIS is not as sophisticated as one would hope. (Either that or we’re not. Needless to say I’ll be researching this further.) By clicking on a ship’s avatar on the chart you can find out the ship’s name, its heading, speed, and whether it’s going to run into you. The latter is indicated by the single word, “SAFE.” What “SAFE” does not tell you is how closely the ship is going to come in its path past you. Is it going to be 500 meters or 100? Is it going to be far enough that its wake doesn’t swamp us as we traverse it? Does it mean we’re going to pass in front of the ship or behind it? These uncertainties ensured that until I couldn’t stand the stress of it any longer and Peter had to take over, I sat at the helm obsessively clicking on ships’ avatars and rechecking that it still said “SAFE,” and then cursing when it was impossible to determine whether we would pass in front or behind, and should we go for it or wait. Peggy stoutly stayed with me throughout, providing an ear and her own opinion, and when I escaped to the front porch to hide from the threat of oncoming ships, she stayed at the helm with Peter and gave him her support as well.
We did make it across the lanes without getting rammed or swamped, and then turned off the engines, put up the headsail and pointed to Sounia, where the Temple of Poseidon perches on the cliffs above the sea. We had a very tight point of sail, but it didn’t stop us from flying across the water. Even with the swell we made 9.7 knots – and our previous highest speed under sail had been 7.1. It was thrilling – a relief from the terror that had marked the first few hours of our crossing. And then we got to walk up to Poseidon’s Temple – a gorgeous ruin and deserving of its reputation as a must-see in the Aegean.
We still had wind in the anchorage, but the swell lessened enough that we were able to sleep that night. Before lifting anchor the next morning, we made our pleas to Poseidon again, as we’d done in April at our boat re-naming ceremony. We used ouzo this time, rather than prosecco, and it felt wonderful to add Peggy’s voice to our offerings.
We spent the next few days making our way down the Cyclades, heading for Milos. Our stops along the way were better protected from the ceaseless, inescapable southern winds, but every day was a bash against the swells and winds on the nose. We were determined to get to Milos though, and with enough time there for Peggy to explore the island with us. We took a quick detour to see the Sarakiniko cliffs on the north coast of Milos, and were very glad to see them from the water rather than the top of the rocks.
We arrived in Adamantas, the capital of Milos, in the screaming wind, now from the north, FFS, and found we couldn’t get our anchor to dig in anywhere in the vast anchorage. Let it down, pull back, give it a minute to dig, then gradually reverse to 1500 rpms. Every single time the anchor dragged. The bottom was largely sandy – despite the heavy seas we could see well enough to know we were dropping in sand – what was the problem?? We’d haul it up and try again. Finally, Peter determined that the swivel that allowed the anchor to land any old way and flip as needed to have the point down was jammed – a quick hit of grease and we were finally able to get the grip we needed.
And Milos was worth the effort! We hiked to the Chora the next day to get a closer look at the old town and preserved windmills, and to visit the catacombs where the original Venus de Milo was found. It was a beautiful walk through the hills behind Adamantas, and the memories it evoked of previous hikes together were sweet.
Peggy finally had to board that ferry to Athens though, and it was hard to see her leave. She’d survived the gales and bashing swells of our introduction to the Aegean and was undoubtedly bored of hearing our wistful tales of the placid Ionian with its gorgeous waters and calm inlets. As the best of friends do, she listened with sympathy to my frustrations with boat life, and pointed out the ways I could make it easier for myself – and therefore also Peter. She supported our efforts to climb the learning curve of heavier winds and more sailing than we’d found in the Ionian and encouraged us to lessen our dependence on our engines when we really did have the time to tack to our destinations. She was a positive face all day every day, and always ready for an adventure. I couldn’t have been more thankful for her time with us.
And then, somehow, it was early October and we had about a month to get to Lesvos in the northern Aegean for our winter contract in the Mytilini Marina. Time to turn on the gas.
* Which then necessitated their “translation” by (male) priests who were the only ones who could supposedly interpret what the oracles were saying. Riiiiight.