Anafi to Lavrio, Greece; Picking up Guests June 2015

ANAFI TO SANTORINI, GREECE  June 13

Celador at anchor in Anafi

You can enlarge any photo by clicking on it.

We set off early for Santorini. We arrived mid-morning in time to witness the exodus of day charters departing for the day. The small, circular harbor has room for transient yachts to raft up on the outer wall, near the entry to the turning basin. 

The marina at Livadhi, Santorini

We were the outermost boat on our "raft", with two boats between us and the wall. Both declared that they'd be leaving around 9:00 the next morning. Behind us was a big Jeanneau, skippered by a wiry young Brit named Jimmy. He reminded me of a sun-bleached Mel Gibson, with pierces and a hand-rolled smoke in his mouth at all times. Curly long hair gathered into a loose bun on the top of his head, a two-day beard shadow, hirsute down to the top of the mud-colored Calvin Klein underwear he wore under his faded "sagging"shorts...a pirate of the Caribbean here in the Med. He befriended us right away. He told of an island place where there's a spade left sicking out of the beach; if you dig where the spade is, the hole fills in with geothermally heated water and makes a natural hot tub! By noon Celador was secured and we hired a taxi to take us into Fira, the main town of Santorini.

Fira, on the rim of the ancient volcano Thera.

The road wound up through terraced hills of biscuit-colored volcanic ash planted with young grapevines spreading out along the ground. It's a substantial investment in future wine production. Arriving in Fira, on the edge of the enormous caldera, we stopped at the first cafe we came to; fork-tender braised lamb and fresh Greek Salad and a huge slice of baklava for dessert.

Honey-soaked baklava

We chatted with the woman at the next table, Sandrine from Paris, who was traveling alone. We wandered to the cathedral to see intricately carved wooden misericordia, and overhead a painted Christ looked down from the dome, fingers raised in benediction.

Christ Panocrator, stock photo from a different church.
St. Nicolas church requested no photography.

In this radiant white town perched on the crater's rim, past boutiques and galleries, I attempted to photograph the astonishing views.

View in Fira,  Santorini

 I could have prowled these lanes with my camera for days, but it was time to go. By the marina, a cliff exposed different strata of volcanic cinder, striated and honeycombed into fantastic shapes.

Eroded strata on the cliff face. Fascinating.

Atop this cliff was Dimitri's place, where over a cheap and cheerful dinner of moussaka, fresh green figs and watermelon we watched the sun sink into a tangerine haze.

The marina at Santorini, from Dimitri's

SANTORINI  Sunday June 14.

The German boat in the middle of the raft-up wanted to leave at 9:00, while the Canadian inner boat was still lingering over breakfast. Much discussion ensued. We held out until the inner boat was ready to go, almost a hour. We warped forward into the vacant berth of a day-trip catamaran to let the Germans and Canadians slip out. The harbormaster waved in a big Jeanneau, and next came a Frenchman; we thought we 'd be able to tie up the outside, since we were leaving early the next day. Well, the Frenchman announced he'd be leaving around 3 pm the same day.

The raft-up in Santorini

More discussion ensued. After deep deliberation, he agreed to cast off and let us moor in the middle, so they could sail off in a few hours and we could leave at last to go touring. It was well after noon when began our road trip. Ron was the intrepid driver on the snaking road to the north end of the island. Our destination was Oia, a picturesque village at the far northern edge of the caldera. We later learned that this is the curviest road in the Cylcades!

More magical views of Oia, Santorini

 Oia is lovely and now touristic; it's main boulevard along the ridgetop is paved with white marble. Snowy white buildings, decorated with artfully arranged smooth stones, huge potted geraniums and succulents blooming like red hot pokers. Galleries and boutiques with browsing young Asians in big floppy hats and unique fashion choices, posing in cheesecake postures for selfies. The sunlight was hot and blindingly bright. In a shady restaurant we ordered lunch overlooking the hazy blue caldera. Sandrine came by.

Sandrine and me, Oia, Santorini

We pleased to see each other again, and shared some wine. She is the administrative assistant at a prestigious Physics Institute in Paris. We laughed about the Big Bang Theory, popular in France and featuring characters she recognized from work! Interestingly, she says many distinguished theoretical physicists are Greek.

More glimpses of Oia.

I shot as many photos as I could in the short time I had, then we left for Akrotiri. Southward we wended, past vines already setting fruit, to the excavated ruins of the Bronze age city. The museum building is a vast skylit hangar covering the excavation of the Minoan city dating from ~2000 BC.

Part of the excavation at Akrotiri.

Vivid, graceful frescoes were unearthed there, and much was discovered about the Minoan way of life.

Harvesting saffron

 The eruption of the mega-volcano of Thera around 1500 BC was five times as large as that of Krakatoa in 1880. It obliterated the sophisticated Minoan culture of Crete and Santorini. This ancient civilization is widely believed to be Atlantis, described by Homer. The eruption may also account for the many flood legends of the Mediterranean region; recounted in the Bible, the Epic of Gilgamesh, ancient Egyptian texts, Homer, and others.

Inside the massive caldera

The German skipper showed me how to wind three loops around the mid-ship cleats between the two rafted boats to minimized the squeaking and groaning of the boats joined by the short spring line. Good information.

SANTORINI TO IOS June 15.

We departed early and motored through the caldera. The angle of the morning sun was not favorable, but I snapped a lot of photos anyway;

A view of Oia from the caldera at Santorini

majestic views, with cruise ships at anchor below Fira to add scale.

The small island in the caldera is formed of relatively recent black lava, chunky spew from the earth's core. The sheltered waters of the caldera opened onto the smooth of the Med. With no wind, we motored for six hours to Ios. Several giant "fast ferries" blew past us on the way, coming and going from view in just minutes.

The "fast ferry". It is well named!

Turning into the small, sheltered harbor at Ios, we were happy to see lazy lines and the comfortable med-mooring along the quay...a welcome change from rafting up or using the dinghy. Grocery stores and a bakery with free wifi lay steps from the stern. We celebrated with a liter of wine with dinner, a saganaki made with "masochist" (really "makisti")" cheese from Chios, creamy Xira goat cheese from Ios, a couscous and vegetable salad dressed with a mustard sauce, and lamb souvlaki. Mosquitos attacked. Back at the boat, it was hot and I couldn't sleep. I heard guitar music and singing, American folk, Greek and German. I thought it was live music at a taverna, but it was the Austrians just two boats down. Two guitars, and a score of songs sung well and joined by the whole boat's company, laughter. I got dressed and went on deck to listen. By midnight it was cooler and I could sleep.

IOS June 16

I was awakened early to loud voices; back packers arriving on the ferry and descending on the bakery, apparently still drunk from the night's revels. One weaved down the street munching a sandwich with blood on his leg and missing a shoe. After coffee, we walked around white-painted Chora (the word for "town" in the Greek islands).

The chora at Ios.

There were nice views of the harbor. Ios attracts the young back-packer crowd in their short shorts and floppy hats, lacy crop tops and swingy short dresses, Tom's shoes and fake Ray Bans, sagging baggies, etc. They love Ios' beaches; nudity is tolerated but not technically legal. There interesting little clubs along its narrow lanes, and the place rocks when the sun goes down. I walked out to the church on the point at the entry to the harbor; nice views, purple thyme and red geraniums growing wild on ancient terraces.

 Later we had a wifi session at the Enigma Bar, shaded by an arbor canopy of Virginia creeper. Lunch of nice bread and black olive tapenade, spinach topped with three melted cheeses and peppers stuffed
with feta cheese.

Street scenes  in Ios.

IOS TO NAXOS June 17

We departed at around 7 am for Naxos, wind light on the nose, so we motored all the way.

Arriving Naxos, we motored slowly into the harbor, backing into a slip between the French and the British. They assisted with the fenders, with lazy lines and tying up. While this is going on, the Brits on the other side were watering up and lost control of the hose and it went squirming across the deck spewing fresh water on us. Funny! Then the captain in his picturesque yachtsman's cap called out in a stage-voice, " Have the girlie-wirlies bring out two beers...cold ones!". Girlie wirlies?!  Ron and I both cracked up.... I think they noticed :).

" Weigh the anchor-wanker....no... wait ...!"

"Right-o, Dahlings, I'll serve it to you in the cockpit-wockpit", I whispered.

After we've settled in, I head off the quay and up into the old Kastro ("castle") neighborhood, called the Naxos Labyrinth. The warren of whitewashed narrow lanes led up to the Kastro and down many different ways.

Street scenes in Naxos. As you can see, I never tire of them.

The cement between the flagstones is neatly outlined in white. I toured the Venetian museum with age-old embroidery, clothing etc, rooms arranged and furnished to depict life in a gracious home in the 19^th century. Jewelry shops and funky Euro-clothing shops were worthy of a leisurely look. My little friend Eleni at Pop Art summer clothing store is a sweetheart. She hopes some day to visit NYC and also to "run on Venice Beach".

 Eleni

At night we ate and explored the town. Ron found a taverna featuring live guitar and bouzouki music and Greek ballads. The singer lit a cigarette between songs, took one puff, and carefully snuffed it before starting the next song. Sing, puff, snuff, repeat.

Sing , puff, snuff...

Night scene of Naxos harbor,  from Celador's bow.

We enjoyed the music til late.

SYROS Sunday 6-21

We leave early to sail for Syros. Very little wind, but we make use of it by raising the main sail. From a distance, Syros is veined with dry stone walls surrounding the old terraces. Historically it was a catholic, community, more Italianate and later buildings from her heyday as a shipping center in the mid 19^th century.

Downtown Syros; the marble streets have seen better days.

Ermopouli town lies in a hollow like an amphitheater between two church-topped hills, with a shipyard in the harbor and oil storage tanks and 19^th century ruins near the "marina under construction". The sailing guides say the marina is yet to be completed, but because of the rusted street light fixtures, the corroded electrical towers and frozen water spigots, we agree it has the look of a failed development project. Nonetheless, it's well protected and there's plenty of room to moor alongside protected from the meltemi, predicted for mid afternoon tomorrow. We walked into town. The harbor district is run down, but further along waterfront is the more prosperous town center . We had lunch at an American-style Sports Cafe , featuring Larry Bird and Magic Johnson salad. The menu is all in Greek, we never found out what's in them. We explored marble sidewalks and marble streets during siesta...it's Sunday afternoon, doors are shuttered. Later, things start to come alive again. We found the free bus, locate the marine store and super markets, and headed back for the night.

SYROS June 22

I lay awake most of the night. The wind came up at 3 am, gusting past 25kt, 12 hours early, scrubbing our plan to leave early for Kea. We rode the bus to the city center. We walked to the Apollo theater, a miniature copy of La Scala in Milan, and listened to an opera singer and pianist rehearse with their conductor.

The Apollo opera house, a copy of La Scala

We got to listen in on the rehearsal.Very nice.

Next was the church with two bell towers. It is richly decorated with Murano glass chandeliers, vivid painted saints, stars and other adornments on every surface. Silver icons are hung with votives of hammered silver and gold featuring breasts, eyes, ears, a car, even a watch and ring. Town had it's hey day in the mid 1800's as shipping center of Cyclades. Heading uphill toward the other church, we met a lady with carefully applied red lipstick, who spoke fluent English. She is named Valentine, and is a vivid, theatrical personality, and a teller of tales. She invited us to come see her period home. This turned out to be the "Cybele Institute" we had seen signs for on the street. Her home was a 19^th century middle class home, with three levels. The laundry area was at the lower level, with a stone wash basin. Middle level was drawing room, a parlor, and kitchen with wide marble sink and a cistern covered by a domed metal lid; the third level were bedrooms, with period furnishings and her elderly mother waved at us from her bed. There was a gallery with an artful display of her grandmother  Cybele's career as an actress of renown pre-WWI.

Cybele, the Gloria Swanson of Greece

She married three times; to two rich men and lastly ,"disastrously"...since she gave up her career for him", to a Papandreiou, grandfather of the Greek president.  In the way back I stopped for My Big Fat Greek haircut. Might let my hair grow out after this!

SYROS to LAVRIO June 23

At last the wind came abeam and we could sail. We started for Kea but became as easy to sail on to Lavrio and arrive at our ultimate destination early. Olympic Marina is nice facility but due to consortium ownership, business management is inefficient. The restaurant has closed, there's no food service...but helpers escorted us to our slip in the dinghy and there were plenty of line handlers and two lazy lines. We gave the boat a very thorough deep cleaning in preparation for friends Penny, Ruth and Lewis to arrive.

Before my big fat Greek haircut!

Heading West...Bozburun, Turkey to Anafi, Greece June 2015

LEAVING TURKEY - BOUND FOR SYMI

Living the good life in Bozburun.

You can enlarge any photo by clicking on it.

June 8. We prepared to leave early. I scrubbed the decks and topped up the water tanks. Ron took the dodger to be restitched (which only cost 20 TL, about 5 dollars) . Shopping  for fresh produce used up some of our Turkish Lira and we converted the rest to Euros at the silversmith's shop. We went to the transit agent to clear ourselves and the vessel out of Turkey .With light wind on the nose, a common wind pattern over the coming days, we motor-sailed away from Bozzburun. The sun glistened on the blue Aegean, and we felt a wistful pang about seeing Turkey for the last time.

No more meuzzin's call to prayer...love the scooter guy :)

 We entered the Venetian-style harbor of Symi early in the afternoon, and just ahead of the inbound rush of yachts. The moorings filled in fast but we found ourselves in our favorite spot in front of Taverna Haris.

Approaching Symi

 Mooring stern-to, we laid out over 30 meters of chain and used the excess to swing the bow into proper alignment with the quay. A blue-hulled racing yacht, with mast raked astern, was moored at the end of the quay, flying the ARC+ flag...this is someone Ron wanted to meet since he too will be sailing in the ARC+ rally across the Atlantic in November.

 We greeted the Port Captain ("Mooring Man"), remembering him with his baby god-son last year, which made him grin. Costas the Transit Agent took our documents to clear us into Greece, and we slipped across to the Taverna Haris for a beverage and wifi session. I walked around the town, welcoming the change, a subtle shift to Europe from the fringe of the Levant. The shops display wispy thin cottons and elegant jewelry fashionable from here to Gibraltar. There is a familiarity about Greece...the Greeks are expressive, chatty, a gracious tilt of the head invites us to linger. Eyes twinkle. Lovely Symi, graceful in her Venetian heritage, shaded arbors, ochre facades and painted stone steps.

Beautiful Symi

My few words of Greek ("Merry Christmas", for instance) delight the shopkeepers. It is early in the tourist season here; streets are deserted when the ferries depart carrying sunburned tourists, like pink dumplings. A poster advertised Greek Music Live Tonight at 8 pm (can we stay awake that late?) We rode the public bus, up and down winding curves to the Secret Garden cafe, situated in an old house clinging to the hillside. We arrived at 9:30, still ahead of the band. Two wiry brothers played bouzouki

and keyboard, worn tourist classics like "Never on Sunday"in a desultory way, until the pretty blonde singer arrived. She sang wistful, lilting Greek songs, and the boys in the band came alive.

A British couple sat with us; they've returned to Symi for 25 years. She'd enjoyed her Greek wine and was doing shadow puppets on the wall in time with the music, perplexing the singer just a bit... It was a fun night on the town.

SYMI TO TILOS

The Meltemi, the strong northerly wind of the Aegean, sang in the rigging as we made ready to depart. Costas the Transit Agent returned late with our passports and "depka", the transit log clearing the vessel into Greece. We departed Symi around 9:30, intending to head north for Kephalo bay on Kos. We motored into the wind, barely making headway. By raising the main sail, we were able to increase our speed to windward and steady the boat, but progress was still slow. Ron altered our course to head for Tilos, enabling us to sail close-hauled and make better time. We arrived at the mole in Tilos in the soft lilac-colored light of dusk.

Tilos harbor

Tilos is steep, rocky and dry; the town is small, with new attractive holiday villages being built. Moored near us was the blue racing yacht flying the ARC flag we'd seen in Symi. While I prepared dinner of pasta, Ron went and introduced himself to Alexei, the Russian owner of the racing boat S/Y Bepo, who invited him for a beer. After dinner we joined Alexei ashore for cocktails.

Ron and Alexei in Tilos

He's an accomplished sailor, knows the Mediterranean very well. We learned of several good ports in the Med and discussed the ARC, which Andrei has sailed before. He is good humored and gregarious and we enjoyed his company. 

The prediction of strong Meltemi winds made us consider remaining in Tilos another day. However, over coffee at a local wifi bakery, we saw the forecast had moderated and decided to sail for Astipalaia.

We motor-sailed most of the day. I thought I heard a small change in engine pitch in the afternoon, but there was nothing to be done at the time. Around 8 pm, at dusk with the anchorage in view and listening to bagpipe music to cheer us in, suddenly the engine lost power and the alarm buzzers squealed. Ron checked the engine, but neither one of us is a diesel doctor. Trying to stay positive was what I could do to help.  After checking various things, Ron saw that no engine cooling water was coming out with the exhaust. Diving into the manuals, he surmised that perhaps the impeller was shot. 

By then it was dark. I suggested we try to tack into the bay and anchor under sail, as I  had done in the past on Rachael Too. We proceded with this plan, working to windward as best we could with light winds and staring ahead into the inky darkness.  Just outside Livadhi Bay, the wind died. The manual suggested that the engine could start again when it was cool, would run and shut down again when it got hot.  Ron decided it was worth a try. He started the engine and we motored up into the bay and dropped the anchor (with the engine alarm screaming away). We were able to set the anchor and rest at last.  The wide bay had a sandy bottom with good holding, and only two other boats were at anchor.

Two happy sailors,  relieved to have the hook down!

 Well after 10 pm and a quick dinner of bread and honey came a good rest for the crew from the tense and exhausting day.

ASTIPALAIA     After morning coffee, we dinghied ashore and tied off on the rocks.

Coming ashore in Livadhi Bay, Astipalia

In the village shaded by eucalyptus trees, we asked about a bus to Chora, where a mechanic shop might be found. The bus was not due any time soon. We bought water and a cheese pastry from the cheerful grocery lady and headed up over the hill to Chora. It was a scenic walk, past purple flowering wild thyme, yellow thistles, pink mallow and fragrant fennel, with beautiful views of the sea.

Celador at anchor in Livadhi Bay, Astipalaia

At the top of the hill was the road to the old town and the 14^th century Venetian fort. Ron suggested we split up, he to chase parts and I to explore ancient village huddled under the battlements. So many Greek islands are typically (and stereotypically) topped with old settlements of white houses clustered under the battlements of a fortress.  White buildings are cool, and so is the breezy hilltop location; but also it's a good defensive position, and with wide sea views. The narrow twisting lnes of these villages all lead up to the fort, and back down to the main roads.  There were no dead ends for villagers to become trapped in.  Pirates raided these island settlements for centuries. The most infamous of these was the Ottoman pirate Barbarossa.

Barbarossa brothers, circa 1522.  They were bad ones!

The castle is in ruins, still majestic, with a few ancient marbles and two impeccable white and blue churches nestled amid the tumbled walls.

The colors of Greece.

The warren of stone houses clustered under the castle wall collapsed like a house of cards in the destructive 1956 earthquake, and are being restored. It is not yet touristic; there were only  three of us visitors while I was there.

 After walking through town and over another hill, Ron found the correct impeller at a mechanic's shop. The mood was cheerful as we walked back to the boat. Ron installed the impeller, and with fingers crossed we started the engine. 

 The new and old impeller.

 Success! Water and black rubber crumbs of the old impeller came gushing out of the exhaust pipe. For a trial, we motored the boat around from the bay into the mole at Chora. The the quay was filled with moored boats, but a well-intentioned German skipper beckoned us to come in bow-first next to him. It looked tight, but possible, so we thought we'd try it with the help of his crew. Well, we didn't fit, and a lynch mob of Brits and Germans from down the dock assembled to abuse us while we worked reverse the maneuver, trying to avoid the anchor chains and mooring lines. They continued to comment and stare, so I blew big kisses at them from the foredeck. That sent them back to their own business.We left the basin and moored in the exposed area alongside on the ferry dock, with greasy black tires fending us off the concrete pier. Spring lines eased the boat's motion, and adjusting them later improved the balance. In the chilly breeze we went to the village and enjoyed a great chicken gyros with tangy tzatziki. Happily, we saw no more of the lynch mob.

ASTIPALAIA TO ANAFI

We departed early and sailed most of the way to Anafi, the last stop before Santorini.

Motored the last ten miles, past a high two-pronged peak which reminded me of Gibraltar from one angle, the Pitons of St. Lucia from another.

The peak of Anafi, looking like Gibraltar. So high it creates it's own cloud.

Katabatic winds gusted down, and we entered a turquoise anchorage scalloped with the first sandy beaches we've encountered. It was early afternoon, so we did laundry and relaxed.

Laundry day...washing by hand in the sink.

I swam to the beach, golden sand overhung with dramatic cliffs of gray and tan volcanic scree. The bottom was shallow and sandy; good holding, with water so clear that from the boat we could see the anchor was well set.

Pretty little beaches shaded by the overhanging cliffs.

We got cleaned up and rowed ashore, landing in a corner of the beach where waves rebounded off the mole. We made a Laurel and Hardy landing, tumbled and drenched by the bouncing waves, to the amusement of the local fishermen. Both of us were soggy from the waist down. Luckily I'd put my camera in a plastic bag! We laughed it off and rinsed away the sand, then went to Popi's for damp dinner and drinks. Grilled calamari, brown bread, stewed vegetables and tzatziki made our meal, with a complimentary dessert so typical in Greece; a heavenly spoonful of homemade fig jam spiked with walnuts and a touch of vanilla and cinnamon. The little lady in the kitchen beamed with our compliments. We were bound for Santorini in the morning!

My cabin ...the "girl cave".