In last week’s blog Kerry left you on Thursday 2nd October on a very rainy day in Messolonghi. Now it’s Friday, and guess what? It’s still raining. We stayed on the boat until I got cabin fever and then I went for a run in the rain. I always like running in rain for some reason. Certainly better than baking hot sunshine. It’s a great way to explore as you cover a lot of distance much faster than walking and can go on trails that the folding bike can’t manage.
Big excitement tonight. There is a organised meal for all the marina folks at the local taverna. Many of them are long-term berth holders, so we feel like newbie ‘blow-ins’. We met an Irish couple a few boats down (Mairead and Rob), who were also going so we agreed to sit with them for some moral support. The meal was amazing, in that food for about 50 attendees appeared from a tiny kitchen hidden at the back of the taverna.
We were all squeezed into the indoor bit of the taverna because of the rain, so it was loud once the various boat crews (average age… let’s just say ‘old’) started guzzling the local wine. I could not hear anything anybody said to me so just tried to nod and smile when it seemed appropriate. I just hope I did not offend anyone! Later there was live music. Nothing too trendy though. Things like Elvis, “Fools Rush In.” Very cringey, but it seemed to go down well with the aged audience. It was late when we staggered back to our boat and we went out like lights.
Next day we had sore heads and throats for some reason and our voices had that husky tone to them. I felt we needed fresh air so dragged Kerry out for a cycle, with the promise of pancakes at a cafe we had visited last year. We cycled through the puddles, shook ourselves dry and sat down to order big coffees and pancake stacks. The place seemed very deserted though and the waitress came over and told us the glad tidings: that there was a power cut and therefore no pancakes. The best we could get was little Greek coffees, which presumably they had some sort of non-electric heating device for. That would have to do, then back to the marina to dry out (again).
There was a bit of a concern over my folding Brompton bike on the cycle. The chain kept coming off and I got horribly oily putting it back on again. This would not do at all. Kerry’s electric Brompton was now working well and I could feel a vibe of, “Great, now it’s your turn to suffer” coming from her.
Back at base, I gave the old Brompton’s chain a thorough cleaning and then inspected for issues. It seemed that the wheel nut was a little loose and crooked, so I dug out a spanner and gave it a good tighten. Too good, as it snapped off. It was a special hollow nut that the shifter for the 3 speed Sturmey Archer gears went through. Oh dear. The nearest Brompton dealer was in Athens, about six hours bus ride away. I thought about various repair techniques such as glue or gaffer tape, but decide the best option was to leave it and just monitor whether the wheel might fall off. I still had one gear, so reckoned I could still compete with Kerry’s electric, “no need to pedal” bike.
For the rest of the day Kerry played endless puzzles on her iPad, while I invented some boat jobs to keep me busy. During my jobs I dropped a bolt in the water, so most of the time was spend digging through my many tool boxes to find a replacement.
About 5pm Kerry unexpectedly announced that we could leave tomorrow. We had both got into a bit of a catatonic state, where our brains had gone mushy with rain and cabin fever. We needed to shake ourselves out of it and get going. The weather was good for Sunday, so we decided to go for it, with an early start, and explore somewhere new.
We headed for Kalamos, an island in the Ionian, which had a harbour with reputation for over-crowding, but surely we would be fine squeezing in this late in the season? We had a lovely motor sail, averaging 7 knots at times. Fast for us!
At the entrance to the harbour Kerry phoned George, who is the local taverna owner. The deal is that he organises the boats in the harbour in exchange for giving him custom at his restaurant. There were loads of space when we arrived at around 2pm, so we relaxed in the cockpit with a beer and iced tea. Then things started to liven up. Lots of boats started to come in, then more and more. By 6 pm there were nearly 50 boats in a harbour that we had felt might accommodate 20 at the most. George, who is not a lean-looking figure, was everywhere at once, along the quayside, jumping into his speed boat, and shouting endless instructions to sailors, who probably had never done a stern-too mooring (many were flotilla sailors, perhaps on their first sailing holiday).
Once the quay was jam-packed, George started another layer of boats, all along the middle of the harbour. They tied long lines to the boats on the quay-side. We were now jammed in, with no chance of leaving until the boats in front of us left. Also there were about 50 anchors, now dropped all over the place. The chance of these not becoming tangled, when it came to raise them, seemed slim.
Despite the organised chaos, everyone stayed relatively calm. This all seemed to be thanks to George, who had endless patience and energy in his role as unofficial harbour master. That night we ate at George’s (of course) and sat with our neighbours (Deborah and Mark). They turned out to be antique dealers, which somewhat triggered my social anxiety, but it turned out they were lovely folks and we shared a few laughs. I don’t think I’ve met an antique dealer before. Now I’m thinking of becoming one!
So more rain on Monday. We’ll probably stay here another day to wait for the sun, then Kerry will tell you where we go to next.
