Argostoli - Greece

We left Mao on 6th November for a Passage to Cagliari, Sardinia.
I would have liked to say we sailed to Sardinia, but there was little or no wind and we were forced to sit and wait, or get the motor on. We chose the latter.
Arriving late in the afternoon of Saturday 8th we were helped with berthing by three men and three dogs. All very friendly, and the men with a good sense of humour. The mountains of southern Sardinia looked lovely, but we were on a mission to continue our easterly progress while the weather remained fair. A return when we have more time to spare would be lovely.

On the morning of Sunday the 9th we sailed / motored in light airs for Sicily.
The following day, in the middle of the night, I became aware that the odd looking lights to starboard, possibly another cruise ship or an oil rig, was on a steady bearing. (That means, if one of us doesn’t do something about it, a collision is inevitable). I monitored the situation for the remainder of my watch and illuminated the sails with a powerful search light to announce my presence. Hours later, it dawned on me that although still almost 60 miles away, I had made landfall. I was looking at the lights of Tripani on the West coast of Sicily.

On passage (a few days later) past Mt Etna.

Palermo was entered in the early afternoon of the 11th. It’s a large busy port, with all manner of craft plying to and fro. A cruise ship (safely tied up in it’s berth), ferries, yachts, sliding seat rowing boats dashing hither and thither, and a squadron of kayaks splashing about. With a splendid back drop of mountains, and huge cranes towering in the wings, our first impressions were very favourable. However, reality soon raised its ugly head. First we were shocked at being asked for 30 Euros per night berthing fee. Then wishing to get our money’s worth, and looking forward to a hot shower, we were told “showers kaput” Apparently the man had not been to fill the water tank.

Being in the docks, we were of course on the less salubrious side of town, and I was glad we had elected to go shopping together. I feel that a middle aged couple are less likely to be mugged or inadvertently cause offence than a single man or woman.

Walking into the town, we cautiously moved across the street to avoid some very dirty and wild looking men, presumably drunk or on drugs or possibly both. Then turning a corner we came across a bunch of about half a dozen children playing football in the street. Their mothers were sitting on a bench, interrupting their conversation to chastise one or other of them at intervals. We stopped to ask for directions to the supermarket and one, rather reluctantly it seemed, responded by indicating the way. A moment later we were confused and astonished to be accosted by one of the children and then by a man supervising their game. They berated us and were clearly irate, but we had no idea of what we had done to offend them. Concluding that we may have inadvertently strayed onto their football pitch (the pavement) we beat a hasty retreat. After doing our shopping we found a different route back to the boat.

We dined aboard Café Sula that evening and enjoyed some excellent Sicilian wine to go with our equally good local spiced sausage, fresh assorted salad and ciabbata.

Full moon over the Aeolion Islands.

It had for some time been in our minds to visit the Aeolion Islands. The weather was settled so we grasped the opportunity. We were particularly keen to sail round Stromboli. The volcano is still active, and continues to erupt in a quiet and dignified manner. Apparently the glow of the eruption, with molten lava flowing into the sea, is a stunning spectacle; especially when viewed from a boat a respectful distance off shore.

However it was not to be. We were intending to anchor off the island of Alcudi so as to get to Stromboli the next day, but on arrival found that a heavy swell made the anchorage un tenable. Our only option was to forgo the experience and divert to the island of Vulcano, where we arrived at 3 AM.

We anchored in a well sheltered bay and awoke next day to an incredibly peaceful setting. We had the place to ourselves. The sea was calm and a gentle breeze blew from the land. It was warm, but not hot. Ashore, the modest hill that is home to Gran Crater winked at us. We dug out our walking boots, packed a lunch box and went for a ramble. At the craters edge we found clouds of sulphurous gas blocking our path, so an alternative route was found. At the summit we surveyed the fine view across our anchorage and on to the other Islands, we sat and enjoyed our lunch and simply felt it good to be alive.

Gran Crater Volcano

The wind shifted to the west in the early hours of Friday the 14th making our idyl rather uncomfortable, so we hauled up the anchor and set sail.

You probably know that this part of the world, what with Homer and Odysseus, is rather steeped in ancient history. Our next challenge was to risk the wrath of Scilla with her twelve feet and snapping jaws atop six long necks, and Charybdis the great whirlpool, which swallowed ships straying too close. We were to sail through the straits of Messina.
As it happened Scilla was away for the day and Charybdis was in a good mood. The Straits were no worse for us than the Swellies in the Menai straits of Anglesey, or Jack Sound at neaps. Though it doesn’t take too much imagination to understand the terror the place set in the hearts of ancient seafarers.

We arrived at Reggio Calabria, our only Italian port, on Friday afternoon and left at lunch time the following day. It’s a grotty harbour, the ‘fresh’ water undrinkable, no services to speak of and 25 Euros harbour dues to boot. The town itself is quite pleasant, though quite a long walk from the docks. We put our ‘grannies’ shopping trolley, purchased in Mao, to good use and brought plenty of food and liquid refreshment for the next leg of our own odyssey.

Fluky winds, a lumpy sea and 360º lightning storms, mostly but not always on the horizon, characterises our 250 mile passage to Greece. The second day was the low point, and remarkable for the fact that for the first time in nearly five months cruising, it was the first time we had to wear our oil skins all day long.

We were delighted to arrive in Cephalonia on the evening of the 17th. It was too dark to risk entering the concrete skeleton of the abandoned marina project. So we anchored off in 3 metres of calm clear water. We had arrived in Greece and were as pleased as punch.

Agostoli ‘Marina’

We inspected the ‘Marina’ next day. EU money had been spent in its construction, however the project had failed for various reasons and the builder had gone bust. Enterprising locals and impecunious foreign cruising sailors now use it free of charge. Though it has no ‘facilities’ It’s adequate for a limited visit, and only a ten minute walk across a causeway to the small and friendly town of Argostoli.

We had a mishap next day. We had motored across to the Coast Guard / Port authority offices on the quay, to complete the Greek entry formalities. Passports, Ships papers, Insurance, etc. We had to wait until 5PM for the Captain to come back from his lunch! Business was conducted efficiently, in a friendly atmosphere complete with a television blaring away in one corner of his office.

Howeve,r as we left, we discovered that a vicious wind had picked up and poor old Sula, parked in a corner of the quay behind two Coast Guard cutters, was taking a pounding.
Our only hope was to let go our warps and with a hard shove off, gun the engine to get through the wind and away. Unfortunately it didn’t work and one of our shrouds (wires that hold up the mast) became entangled in cutter’s anchor support. With the help of one of her crew we got it off and returned to our ‘marina’ to lick our wounds.

The following day we visited the Coast Guard again (by foot), and were ensured that they could fix the minor damage we had caused. My apology was accepted with a smile and the assurance “ It’s OK, the wind got up, what else could you do”

Mao - Menorca

The Islas Baleares have been delightful, much better than I ever imagined. We have found peaceful calas to anchor overnight, and generally we have had them to ourselves. Skinny dipping from the boat has been a regular pastime, we have discovered snorkelling. The weather has for the most part been stunning, otherwise quite acceptable, certainly never worse than a bad summer’s day at home. No, that’s doing it an injustice. It has never been that bad. The natives have been friendly and helpful and the towns and harbours have provided all we need and sometimes much more.

The 13th October saw us anchored off Isla Espalmador, a small island between Formentera and Ibiza. We had often been told just how clear and blue was the water of the Mediterranean, and what fun it was to don mask and snorkel and swim amongst the fish around ones boat. But still I had no idea. You could hardly get us out of the water. We were enthralled.

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Mooring Mediterranean style.

Complete with DIY passerelle.

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• On the 14th we called in to Porto Ibiza and successfully completed our first Mediterranean mooring, No problem, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. We stayed just for three or four hours and so avoided any charge. But that was quite long enough for us to top up with water and fuel, take the rubbish ashore and find a supermarket. Then it was just an hours sail / motor to Cala Llonga for the night.
  
  The next day we sailed along the South East coast of Ibiza and anchored for lunch and a swim at Cala Boix. I was doing something or other at the chart table when I looked up and saw a motor boat circling us. I noted it was wearing a British flag. Remarking sarcastically to Pippa that with all the Cala to choose he was probably going to anchor right beside us. She responded by crying “ It’s the Meophams!!” Sure enough Mark and Helen, tipped off by Llangwm’s Jolly boat Janet had found us. What are the chances of that? It was lovely to meet them, especially in such a situation. They stayed alongside for a beer and a chat before recommending a more sheltered anchorage at the nearby Islote Tagomago. And so it proved to be, we anchored as close as we could and took a line ashore to hold us into what little swell there was. Having explored the island we returned on board in time for another swim as the sun set.

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Cala Covas Menorca.

Typical of the many Calas we visited.

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Clot d’es Llamp was our last anchorage in Ibiza. It is a beautiful place with quite fantastic rock formations. We explored some sea caves and of course swam in the crystal water. Unfortunately by the time I thought to take some photos the light had gone and the moment missed.

We made passage to Mallorca on the 17th and anchored in Cala Figuera, just before dark. Figuera is a fine but small Cala and we went to bed after congratulating ourselves on our ever improving prowess in the technique of twin anchoring in tight places. In the very early hours I awoke to find the wind had got up and we had dragged our main anchor.
It was very dark, but not so dark as be unable to see the sheer cliffs, just yards away, that had the stern anchor also dragged would by now be denting our hull. We cleared out and anchored for the remainder of the night in the adjacent and much bigger Cala Portals.

The Real Club Nuatico de Palma was rather a culture shock. Our mouths were agape as we motored slowly past super yacht after super yacht of every shape and design. We were shepherded in to our berth by a young yard hand in a rib. I would never have found it without his guidance. When we took stock of our position in the harbour we noted with astonishment that we had been given a prime berth close to a row of tall yachts that must have cost millions of pounds each. We were right in front of the clubhouse of Palma’s most prodigious yacht club. Apparently this is a privilege extended to visiting foreign yachts. Despite the rather high cost of 20 Euros, we elected to stay for two nights. The facilities were incredible and we were invited to make full use of them, There were not one but two swimming pools, one outdoors and one indoors! Needless to say we got our money’s worth.

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Cala Covas again

We arrived at Ensenada de La Rapita at sunset on the 20th and anchored close to an awful looking hotel. As with so much in these parts, otherwise lovely stretches of coastline are blighted by concrete monstrosities.

On the 21st we arrived at Porto Petro – Cala dels Mats, what a difference. Some form of planning constraints have been exercised here, with discrete villas set amongst the trees, lovely. Quite unexpectedly I found a Wi Fi signal and got on line from the boat. What a bonus.

Porto Christo. On the 22nd was a fine anchorage beneath a cliff covered with hanging gardens. The town was a rather boring sea side tourist town and it rained. Ho hum.

Strengthening headwinds stopped us from reaching our intended harbour of Porto Cala Ratjada so we abandoned that plan and altered course for Puerto de Costa de Los Pinos It proved a lovely sheltered anchorage not far from a 4* hotel. Once ashore we immediately discovered we had found a millionaires row. Many many big expensive houses with long drives and elaborate security gates and fences. A small shop with friendly staff provided them and us with little things we needed.

We awoke early on the 24th to find the strong winds had abated and now provided us with perfect weather for our passage to Menorca. We had a lovely sail, the best for ages and made good time, arriving in the late afternoon.

Cala Covas is home to over 100 prehistoric burial caves. We had a lovely couple of days here. We scrambled up some of the cliffs to inspect the caves, though all the relics have been removed to the museum in Mao and most of the caves are sealed with ugly metal sheets or bars. We had a lovely time swimming in the warm water and exploring our surroundings. I stumbled across a solitary Tortoise sunbathing on a limestone ledge.

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Note the absence of a hole in its shell

for attaching string.

Our last Cala on the 26th was Cala Biniparraitx . The two anchor technique was employed again. We anchored normally and then rowed a kedge anchor out astern and pulled it in tight to stop our swing. Again we swam and explored ashore. What a lovely place to just relax and enjoy life.

Bad weather was forecast so next day we sought shelter in Mao otherwise known as Puerto de Mahon the capital of Menorca.

The wind has been blowing from the South West, sometimes up to force 8 for the last four days, with sunshine interspersed with heavy rain. We are well sheltered here tied bow to on the Public Quay, so it is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

After five days here we feel we know Mao quite well. On one of my excursions into town I came across a bike shop. The manager said he had a second hand folding bike in his garage at home and would sell it to me for 60 Euros. We picked the bike up on the Tuesday after a short delay because the manager insisted that it needed a service including two new tyres. All at no extra cost. He even threw in a plastic coated wire security lock. What about that for a good deal? Pippa is delighted, the bike is just the thing.