Sailing: A Day in Hydra, Greece May 2016

A map of the Argo-Saronic islands of Greece.
You can enlarge any photo by clicking on it.

The hand-shaped peninsula of Greece, the Pelopponese , reaches down toward Crete. Off the thumb of Pelopponese lie the islands of Poros, Aegina, Hydra, and others, in a group called the Argo-Saronic islands.  We sailed from Poros down to Hydra, or Ydra, to see and explore another little Greek island. What a jewel box it is!

Motorsailing on another crystal clear day, Ydra rises out of the sea.

Approaching Ydra the town is mostly hidden.
 Slowly it appears as you turn to enter the tiny harbor.  

There are no cars on Ydra (except a couple of  heavy trucks for hauling stone).
All transport of food, garden plants, and people,  is done with mules and donkeys.
It is a blissfully quiet town, with clopping of hooves and an occasional bray of a donkey ringing out.
Ydra is a posh destination,  accessible only by boat, reminding me of St.Barth's in the Caribbean.

                           

The harbor is tiny, and is crammed full of boats, both visiting yachts and the local fishing fleet.
Fishing is supposed to be pretty good along the coast of Ydra.

Two sleepy mules, waiting for the next job.  Healthy and well cared-for.

Walking along the waterfront in the harbor.

Ydra is proud of it's pivotal role in the War of Greek Independence from the Ottoman Empire, which began in 1821. The skill and daring of Ydriot captains and sailors was legendary. The statue is of Ydriot Captain Economou, who lead Greek naval resistance. In one battle they sent fireships among a fleet of Turkish frigates, to devastating effect.

In the museum... a collection of paintings of Ydriot sailors from that war, which was publicized
   in the West by the participation and writings of George Gordon, Lord Byron (pictured below in Greek attire).

In the cool  morning I wandered the streets and climbed up steep steps into the high town. Here are winding flights of the old town stairway.  Heart's a-thumping.  Along the way I was (as always) rewarded by beautiful views and intimate glimpses of old homes and hidden gardens.

From the top of the town, a view of the harbor in the early morning.

I followed the wide stone path along the sea coast, and found lovely views at every turn.

This is high-end real estate. Leonard Cohen has a home here.

Nice place!  Visitors must walk or ride muleback to their accommodations,
while local porters carry their baggage ahead

The walkway goes from wide ocean views to shady pine bowers.

Typical sea view of Greece. Blue water, white chapel.

From wide seascape to lush garden.

A harbor too tiny for yachts, but home to the local fishing fleet.

Tranquil and quiet.

I stopped at this cafe for a rest and lounge.

A pebble beach lapped by aquamarine water, clear as glass.

Heading back to Ydra harbor.

Because the harbor is so tiny, boats must raft up to one another, often accomplished with more enthusiasm than skill. Rod Heikkel's cruising guide says that anchor chains here are like spaghetti; you will become entangled. Accept it for a fact of life!

Our jolly Belorussian neighbors, whom we met in Aegina.  Nice people.

Here we are, rafted up with four boats outboard of us.  The jolly Belorussians were next door and boat number one on the bow, and a flotilla of Scottish teenagers were boats number two, three and four.  Lots of traffic over the decks, though not ours...the Belorussians got all that.

A local mule-skinner transporting a load of landscape plants.

I just had to photograph this guy; he's Popeye the Sailorman !
Sorry I didn't have the chance to meet him.

Gliding above turquoise depths

The last morning in lovely Ydra.

Girl on the trail.  There are miles of well-marked  trails on Ydra.
I met a Greek hiker who had just completed a four day trek around the island.

Amorgos, in the Greek Islands May 2016

The steep cliffs of the island of Amorgos are a contrast to the rolling hills of Naxos and Paros we had been watching as we cruised by. We motored down between those two large islands in calm wind and seas.  That is, until we reached the south end of Naxos , where the currents and reflected waves made a "washing machine" of turbulent, confused seas.  We were glad the wind was calm, remembering how we struggled with sailing through these waters in the strong  meltemi winds last year, when we had to seek shelter at a tiny islet.

Approaching Amorgos from Paros aboard Celador, we passed by some distinctive landforms. This little chapel is perched on a massive rock resembling a massive ruined fortress, even though it is a natural formation.  Old agricultural terraces are everywhere.

We sailed into the port of Katapola on Amorgos. It's the working port of the island and for centuries was  a hideout for Mediterranean pirates.  The old town, the chora, is over a thousand years old. It is a long uphill walk and is protected by a castle high on a rock, for this reason!

Celador was moored on the quay in Katapola. You can see our neighbor's dockline ran across our passerelle (gang plank). Due to the strong wind conditions, it would be unfavorable for him to move it as we had asked, but he ended up tying it down using a second line to a nearer bollard so that it didn't interfere with our passing.  Clever idea!

The tiny Greek fishing boats often have only one man aboard, and are almost always trim and freshly painted

More boats (sorry, Unc!)  In the distance are three bare, gray rock hilltops, which together resemble a dogs's tooth and can be seen from a far distance, making it easy to steer for Katapola using just line of sight.

I went out one morning for a walk across the island to explore the chora. Here's the view looking back at the port. In the old days, the islanders built their homes on the rocky hillsides and preserved the flat, well-watered bottom land for farming.  That scheme is still evident today.

Walking along the road, I heard the ringing sound of a hammer striking stone, coming from behind a large pile of big rocks.  Peering around a wall, I found the stone mason hard at work shaping rocks with his maul.

Further along, I heard a loud whistle and saw a large herd of goats running down toward the road.  More whistles and shouted commands came, and I spied the shepherd down in gully on the other side.  He carried a natural crooked stick and was a figure from time immemorial.  I felt lucky to have seen him.. I waved and he waved back.

He scrambled nimbly up to the road to meet up with his flock, and we communicated using mostly sign language.  He has a herd dog which was not here today. The goats, however, are conditioned to know the whistles and shouted commands which the dog responds to, so today he was getting along just fine by himself.  His name is Giovanni, from Albania.  It turns out that everybody on the island knows him, since he produces the meat and milk for local cheese.

At the top of the ridge lies the snow- white chora, and overlooking that is a Venetian castle and a church clinging to an imposing, massive monolith of stone. Protecting the populace from raiders was serious business!

(For some reason, the shape of this mountain fort reminds me of a Doctor Seuss fort, overlooking Who-Ville )

Classic chora houses often look as if they've been blanketed by a deep layer of fresh snow.  Beautiful, whimsical, unique.

I stopped to rest at this cafe,where I was treated to fresh village bread and local olives.

A colorful, quiet and peaceful square in the chora.  Perfect for enjoying a cup of coffee.

Ron arrived on a scooter, and we rode out to the fortress monastery of Moni Chozoviorissa, built in the 8th century as a bastion of refuge for the population and to house an ancient and miraculous icon of the Virgin Mary.  While walking miles further along the coast road past the turn-off for the monastery, my camera slipped out of my pocket whilst clammering down a twenty foot steep....I carefully backtracked and found it lightly wedged between two rocks at the edge of a dropoff. And it wasn't broken!!

We had already walked a way along the trail which is hundreds of feet above the sea, running along the face of a sheer, overhanging cliff.

Still not there yet, and you can see that it is eight or ten stories tall with massive buttresses. It was not painted white until recently....originally it would have blended in completely with the gray and tan striated stone of the cliff. (Thanks for that info, Ram!)  Invisibility and inaccessibility were elements of protection.

A centuries-old fresco above a font.

Climbing the steep stairs which are overhung by the living rock of the cliff side.  Entering the monastery, visitors are asked by a monk to don long pants and skirts which were provided on hooks at the base of the stairs; respectful attire in which to enter the sanctuary and the presence of the holy icon. Unfortunately, photos are not permitted.  The icon is worked of hammered silver, with painted faces of the Madonna and child.  After 1600 years, the painted faces are blackened and hard to discern by the light of the bee's wax candles.  After we finished in the sanctuary, we were escorted into a "hospitality suite" where we were served homemade liqueur made with honey, cinnamon and raki, and soft, fresh loukoumi flavored with rose water.   The monks would not accept any money for this kindness. 

Starting to walk back ...the cars are tiny in the distance.

Ron on the trail at Moni Chozoviorissa.

The sun moving west over the Amorgos illuminates another isolated chapel. There are many such chapels in high and lonely which formed a network across the island. Monks kept watch for sea raiders and could relay the alarm from one chapel to the next using the bells and alert the islanders.

 I walked nearly 10  miles and 1200 feet of altitude today!