It’s felt like a long old winter, but we haven’t been idle over the dark, cold, wet months. Fraser has been pursuing his fairly newfound hobby, having stolen my sewing machine a number of years ago, and spent some of his time making new canvas work for Barberry. More about that later! I also spent some months attempting to apply for a Greek Unlimited Transit Log so we could cruise anywhere in Greece without all the red tape at every port and island. It wasn’t easy!
In order to get this transit log, we were asked to prove that Barberry had never left the EU for a period longer that three years since the day she was built in 1984. We were extremely lucky that we are only the third owners, and her previous two owners kept meticulous records of all upgrades, servicing, etc. that we were able to use these to prove our case. Then, when we were beginning to breathe freely, we were asked one last question that could have sunk us completely. The Greek Customs office wanted us to provide proof that the boat in the registration certificate was the same Barberry mentioned on her original sales invoice. They wanted a builder’s certificate or a Hull Identification Number (HIN), neither of which we have. I contacted the Maritime and Coastguard Agency, who register British boats, and asked for help. They very obligingly sent us a new certificate with Barberry’s sail number instead of the HIN. They also sent a letter stating that in that age of boat, neither was required and that in addition, they only have one boat called Barberry in their system, so there could be no confusion about her identity!
We arrived in Greece after a long and tiring double flight and a precious few hours of “sleep” in a Heathrow hotel. We had optimistically booked our launch for the morning following our arrival, and there are always so many jobs to do before launch so we had to hit the ground running. Working as a team, we completed all the essential pre-launch jobs in record time and ended up hanging around for the launching team. Early May is a busy time for a huge yard like Cleopatra, so Barberry had to wait her turn in amongst her far bigger sisters.
Finally, she was lowered into the water, and Fraser shot down below to check if his emergency repairs had held. We had visited in early April to allow him to affix a GRP bandage around the base of her centreboard uphaul pipe since it had begun to slowly leak, but all was perfect, so off we went to Preveza Marina to finish our pre-sailing preparation jobs. And to collect our lovely new Unlimited Transit Log. That turned out to be a lengthy process that had Fraser sweating as I was away so long with the Customs Office that he was fearing it had all been a misunderstanding and we wouldn’t get the log after all! However the highly competent Stavros Pavilides had it all in hand and for a small fee, less than €30, I got hold of my precious piece of flimsy paper.
Apart from the usual pre-season jobs of getting all the sails on and inflating the dinghy, this year we had also decided to replace our VHF radio aerial, after advice from our in-house expert (Fraser’s wee brother), Neil. This involved a total of three trips up to the to of the mast for Fraser. Although Barberry’s mast is always conspicuous by its lack of height compared to other boats, it’s still quite high enough to be a challenge to any normal human’s courage.
Although we have steps on our mast, safety is always the first consideration, so Fraser uses a Bosun’s Chair and is firmly attached by a safety line every time he climbs the mast.
I have the other end of his safety line wrapped around a winch so I can take up the slack as he goes up and give him a little slack as he comes down. That means that if he falls, he’ll hopefully only drop a couple of feet before the line catches him.
In order to feed the new wire through the mast, he first had to attach some mousing string to the old wire so he could use it to haul the new wire up once the old is removed. This involves lashing (whipping) a long piece of paracord securely so it doesn’t pull off partway.
By the time he’d finished, his legs were trembling from the effort of balancing so high up in the air, but the aerial was secure. After that, he had to feed the bottom end of the wire into the boat and solder the join before testing the radio and AIS. The reason for changing it was that after the mast was raised in Port Napoleon we’d never felt as if the radio and AIS range had ever been quite as good. We’d previously had 12+ miles range, and often considerably more, but we now found that even 5 miles was too much for our poor old radio. The moment of truth came when he switched on the chart plotter and made a happy little sound. We were picking up AIS signals from vessels more than 20 miles away!
Among his winter jobs, Fraser had been busy with the sewing machine. He replaced the dinghy chaps he’d designed and made originally in 2022 because the cheap canvas he’d used was disintegrating after too much sun exposure. The new ones fitted perfectly, much to his relief. His work has attracted many comments from other boat owners in the Med, and we’ve been asked who we got to design these chaps. He really should patent his design!
We had also struggled whenever it rained here in Greece. It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does it can be absolutely torrential, even though it’s still really warm. We need the main companionway open or else we’d melt in the heat, but with it open, the whole boat interior gets wet so he designed the cover shown above, extending the spray hood out by a couple of feet to prevent water ingress. It also acts as a sun shade, and even has windows in the side so we can see out!
Once all the jobs were finished, we cast off from Preveza and headed south towards the swing bridge at Lefkada. We’d hoped to make the 07:30 opening, but the Customs Offices didn’t open until half past eight so that wasn’t possible. We joined a small flotilla of boats with the same idea, but we’re old hands at this bridge business so instead of waiting in a crowd, jostling around and fighting gusts of wind, we sauntered into the little harbour there and tied up in a Barberry-sized space on the fisherman’s quay to relax until the klaxon sounded at the bridge to announce its opening (which can be randomly late or early in true Greek fashion). Once it sounded, we started the engine, slipped lines, and gently inserted ourselves into the head of the queue.
Our timing was impeccable, and we reached the bridge just as it began to swing open, feeling like pros instead of the newbies we were a couple of years ago. Slick, was Fraser’s only comment.
I’m going to let Fraser tell you all about the next stage of our adventure. It involves a significant upgrade to Barberry that will help us for years to come.