We spent a few days in Abelake Bay, our favourite spot in the Ionian, decompressing and getting used to boat life again. Each day fell into a routine of sorts: wake around 0700, breakfast, dinghy to the Minas Taverna to get coffee and use the toilets, maybe go for a walk to the local big smoke, the tiny village of Vathi in the next bay.
When we get back from our walk, we would dinghy back to the boat, often with supplies such as fresh bread from the bakery, then have a swim before lunch. The water is very warm at this time of year, but still refreshing. We usually snorkelled our way over to the rocky shore where it was shaded from the sun, and amused ourselves by chasing rainbow wrasse underwater, or trying to spot octopi in their little caves and crevices. The water is so clear in most bays, which makes snorkelling irresistible !
But there are always new challenges, even here in paradise. Other people’s anchoring issues, for a start. We had a lovely couple in a charter boat anchor so close to us that our dinghy touched their boat. To be fair, the wind changed after they anchored, and they were too inexperienced to make allowances for that (it causes boats to pivot around and move away from the same spot). When we pointed it out to them, they apologised and rushed to take in some anchor chain, which was hilarious, because it brought them even closer to us. Fraser explained very nicely that they needed to let out more chain to get further away, and they apologised again.
While in the bay, we managed to catch up with some friends we met earlier in the year, Marilyn and Malcolm in their lovely yacht, Reverie. We nick-named them the M & Ms. It was great to get a catch up over good food and wine in Minas Taverna.
The next issue was the night before we left Abelake Bay. We’d said goodbye to the restaurant owners and returned to Barberry for a relaxing drink in the cockpit, watching the sun set over the bay. Long after dark, just as we were getting ready to turn in ready for an early start the next morning, a boat appeared in front of us, circling like a shark over the exact spot our anchor lay. We told them, and they acknowledged the information, then went away — but not very far. A few minutes later, they dropped their anchor dead in front of us. Oh well; we’d just have to wake them early if they were still over our anchor when it was time to leave.
Unfortunately , their friends had followed them into the bay. Both boats acted as if they were in full party mode, with much shouting and singing, but the second boat was in much worse case than the first, and weaved (backwards!) in between the anchored boats, looking for somewhere to drop their anchor. A couple of men in a dinghy came out from the restaurant to ask them to please go away as they were almost hitting several boats during their drunken ramblings. Fraser broke out the high-powered flashlight we used for spotting pot buoys in night crossings and pointed it at them. That seemed to sober them up, especially when a few other boats did the same, but it took a long time for them to finally clear off. No idea where they ended up!
As expected, the next morning we had to wake up the crew of the boat that had anchored in front of us, because our anchor was sitting directly under them (they couldn’t say they hadn’t been warned). A little grumpy-looking and baggy-eyed, they started their engine and moved enough to let us retrieve our anchor and leave. There was still no sign of the rogue boat, their friends. Maybe they ran aground somewhere and slept it off? This trip was a fairly long passage to Sami on the island of Kefalonia. We’ve never been there before, and the last time we were on the island was more than 30 years ago in our very first flotilla holiday (the first time we’d ever sailed together).
We’re getting better at Med Mooring (see above photo), but most places we visit have “lazy lines”, AKA “Slime Lines” on the dock that you can use to secure the bow of your boat, keeping it straight while the two stern lines tied to the dock make three sides of a triangle. In the case of Sami, there are no lazy lines so we had to drop our anchor and then reverse back into the space. There were other sailors on hand to catch our lines, which always makes life easier, and before long we were well secured, extra spring lines and a huge fender in place ready for the storm. Which was a damp squib. All we got was a couple of hours of torrential rain, but very little wind.
We decided to hire a car while we were in Sami, and explore the beautiful island of Kefalonia. The car hire company is a new ventures set up by a pair of twins (very confusing, as they look identical!). We got a cute little Fiat Panda for 2 days and a map of the island with plenty of tips about the best places to visit. “Andy Pandy” was the perfect car for the twisty hairpins we encountered everywhere, and very economical on petrol too, being a hybrid. And it had A/C!
Kefalonia is one of the most beautiful of the Greek islands, at least of those we’ve so far explored. For old times’ sake, we visited the tiny harbour of Fiskardo in the north and had lunch at the Captain’s Cabin, which is where we ate 30+ years ago, the last time we were here.
The mountainous terrain of the island is especially well suited to Fiat Pandas and to goats. They were everywhere (both car and animal), tripping along the edge of precipices and skipping over rocks like, well, mountain goats, I suppose.
The second day of car hire took us a little less far afield, to the Melissani Cave. It cost €20 euros for the two of us, and was worth every cent. A precipitous marble staircase followed by a steep slope brought us down to the boats, where the boatman helped us to climb aboard and then rowed us across the deep, clear waters of the underground lake, opened to the sky when its roof fell in. Myth tells us it is named after the nymph, Melissani who drowned in the lake when her love was rejected by the god, Pan. These days, it’s a marvel of the natural world, and blessedly cool on a hot day, too. The water is part salt, part fresh, and it passes through there island from Argostoli to emerge in cold streams in the Bay of Sami.
After the cave, we emerged into the heat and then went to look at a nautical museum recommended to us by another sailor. This is a very special place, the brainchild of an elderly man who has spent 20+ years making scale models of historical ships in wood. Each model is a detailed and accurate replica, down to the fine details of rigging and fittings — and it’s air conditioned!
He even had a model of the Titanic, and was very interested to hear that Fraser’s great-grandfather had been a joiner who had make some of the ornate woodwork, tables and chairs inside the iconic boat from Belfast.
The last touristy thing we did while we had the hire car was a trip to visit the ancient ruins of the Acropolis of Sami, up steep and narrow mountain roads with crumbling edges. Once we’d found the spot according to Google Maps (in the middle of nowhere), we set off on foot along a series of goat tracks, winding up the mountain even further. At last we found something that looked ancient and man-made (propped up in places by rusting scaffolding).
Not much to see of the Acropolis, but the views a bit further along were incredible.
Next week, Fraser can tell you about our adventures as we leave the ionian and head into totally new waters (for us, at least).