In Kalamos, we dodged high winds and heavy rain showers, sprinting from boat to George’s taverna and back again. In between we watched the Maestro squeezing more and more boats into the tiny harbour each day, laying anchor chains across the seabed in all directions. It all works, as long as everyone leaves in the correct order.
In between showers, we managed to walk to a beautiful bay beneath a couple of traditional windmills. Here, the water was crystal clear and swarming with more varieties of fish than we’d yet seen. While we were snorkelling around, rain began to pound the sea surface and the backs of our heads. It felt surreal to be swimming in such a downpour, as the sea was still pleasantly warm, warmer than the air above it for sure!
The scenery on Kalamos is spectacular, and we will definitely return here another year, hopefully in the spring when it’s still very quiet and the charter fleets haven’t quite got going yet.
On our last day, we ate again with our next door boat neighbours, Mark and Deborah, but this time we tried to go to a different restaurant. We hiked up a very steep hill to seek out one that had great reviews, only to discover that it had closed for the season. Back down the hill, my knees creaking and groaning (I’m fine with up; not so good with down).
After the chaos that was Kalamos we both felt the need for some peace and quiet, so as soon as the boats whose anchors overlaid our had left, we slipped lines, raised our own anchor, and set off around the northern tip of the island for our favourite place in the entire region: Abelaki Bay.
The weather has been blustery for much of the time we’ve been in Greece this time around, and that day was no exception. Spray crashed over the decks, and even with sails set, we made slow work of the route. By some miracle, the wind dropped as soon as we arrived in our favourite bolt hole, Abelaki Bay, and we were able to drop anchor very close to the shore so Fraser didn’t have so far to swim with lines that he ties to rocks, keeping us in position. The first couple of days here were very windy, and both of us worried about our anchor dragging in the night. Fraser slept with the anchor alarm on on his phone, but the new Rocna anchor didn’t budge an inch (we swam each day and dived to check it).
Amalia and Telly seemed pleased to see us back in Minas Taverna, and Telly embarked on a mission to introductory the pair of us to every type of Greek liqueur he can think of. This included Tsipouro (made from grape must left over from wine making, a bit like raw brandy), Mastika, which is made on the island of Chios from tree sap, and Tentura, a Coca Cola-coloured drink ripe with cloves and cinnamon, that makes you feel like Christmas.
In fact, Christmas became a theme of our stay here, as when we dinghy in each morning for coffee, we always ask for big coffees. Any sort, Americano or filter, as long as it’s big. Telly took on the challenge and went burrowing through the china until he dug out two big Christmas mugs. Now, every time we arrive int he morning, he says, “Christmas?” and we say, “Yes please!”
One of our favourite sports while at anchor is watching other boats trying to get sorted out. The best ones are the catamarans, as very often the boat is far bigger than anything the poor charterer has ever manoeuvred before. They often take several attempts at mooring or anchoring, and it’s great entertainment (once we’re safely tied up ourselves). This time we had the pleasure of watching a couple of charter lead boat crew demonstrating how it should be done, which was even more fun to watch than when it all goes wrong. The two of them were so practiced that they barely needed to communicate as they darted everywhere in their dinghy, helping other boats with lines and anchors.
The next day we walked across the hill to the town of Vathi, where we stocked up on a few essentials in the mini market there. This is a short walk, but almost entirely vertical. We usually celebrate with a cold drink once we arrive there!
Vathi has a small marina, and this marina has some very swish dustbins. You press a button with your foot, the lid opens, a voice gives urgent directions in Greek, and the lid slams shut again. Fraser tried to demonstrate it to me, and nearly lost some fingers.
Soon after, we saw a familiar boat nudging into the anchorage. It was friends of ours, Franklin (Frank and Lin) on Hamble Dawn III, and we always enjoy their company. They’ve been sailing this area for more than a decade, so they’re also a mine of useful information for newbies like us.
Once the wind dropped, the water in the bay was so clear that we could look over the side of the boat and see an octopus on the seabed beneath us. We dived with the action camera later that day, but Ollie/Octavia was shot and retreated into her concrete block. Sadly, we’re fairly sure that a local fisherman caught him/her a day or so later. We found him right over her in a small boat, rowing around with a fishing rod, and we haven’t seen her since.
Fraser goes off on long walks or runs while I’m writing, and he often finds wildlife on his travels. One day he discovered a Praying Mantis, and he often see wild tortoises, but even around human habitation there are wonderful critters to be found. I photographed a gecko outside the ladies’ toilets behind Minas Taverna. They are considered lucky here, and if an islander finds one in their house, they leave them well alone. They eat insects and make useful house guests.
While we’ve been here in Abelaki Bay, we also received the copy edits for the book Fraser and I have due to be released next spring, so we spent a couple of busy days using the taverna’s WiFi while we read through and approved the editor’s changes, or made some of our own. I have a couple more watercolour chartless to paint for the book, but they’ll need to wait until we’re back home as I didn’t bring my watercolours with me this time.
Fraser will take top the story again next week, as we begin to prepare for the winterising process before getting Barberry lifted out for the next few months. After that, all we’ll have is dreams of warm seas and wild tortoises to keep us going through the long northern nights.