BIG PICTURE
THE F//LINE 33 BLASTS ACROSS THE SEA AT 48 KNOTS
It has taken its time coming but Fairline’s pretty new F//line 33 sportsboat has finally arrived. And how! A quick spin during the Cannes boat show in last month’s issue revealed its twin 430hp V8 petrol engines were capable of hurling it along at speeds of up to 48 knots. But power is nothing without control and this month we had the chance to take it out for a whole day in much more challenging conditions to see if it had the sea-keeping to match its prodigious performance. Turn to p56 for the full story.
We’re going to Amorgos, we tell Pierre, the engineer who has worked miracles on Zaffina through the winter months. Go via Evitha, he advises us, it’s the prettiest island of all. And so we set off, not quite as early in the morning as we’d hoped – isn’t that always the case – over flat calm water. Overhead, the sky is the colour of steel and the horizon is an indefinable line as it melts into an equally metallic sea, but the stillness of the conditions makes up for the lack of colour. En route, we nose into the port at Kalymnos and promise ourselves a return visit, and then strike out for Evitha. In true Cyclades style, the wind is starting to rise by the time we reach our destination and the waves are tipped with a white edging, so we are glad to turn into an almost enclosed bay where a number of mooring buoys are waiting for capture. Within minutes, we’re made fast, and relieved to be; despite the shelter, a small swell is now entering the anchorage and although not uncomfortable, the noise of wave against hull and the movement is constant.
Towards evening, the grey skies finally start to clear and as they do so, a small dinghy makes the rounds of all the boats at anchor, collecting the princely sum of seven euros for the security of a night on a buoy. We cast our minds back; in Croatia this same luxury cost in the region of 30 euros a night, whereas back in Italy – well, Sardinia to precise – 80 euros was relatively inexpensive and in the most popular anchorages that sum could rise to several hundred!
RUSTIC DINING
The boatman advises us that the only restaurant on the island is indeed open for dinner, and no, we don’t need a reservation. When Frank tries to launch the dinghy, we discover that the straps have been reattached in an unusual manner. The clasps, which are now beneath the inflatable, are almost impossible to reach and have been fixed back to front, which means that they refuse to release the straps. We spend a happy half hour lying along the bathing platform, head beneath the tender, before – joy of joys – we are finally able to extricate the attachments, undo the fastenings and head ashore.
We follow a rugged goat path to the restaurant, situated at the top of a small hill. The goats have left plenty of evidence of their meanderings, and our way is marked by daubs of white paint on the rocky outcrops along the route, obviously an indication of how to get back to the jetty in the dark! Our destination, when we reach it, is probably one of the most basic restaurants we have ever been in, but who needs Michelin stars when you are sitting under starry skies at one of just six rustic tables in a small farmyard? The choice is red or white wine, lamb or goat – as we can hear the flock of kids currently grazing on just the other side of the gate, we opt for lamb – preceded by a delicious slice of fried saganaki cheese. In years to come, I know this evening will frequently pop into my memory to illustrate what I love about our boating life; without our Azimut, we would never have visited Evitha, nor dined in this unspoilt, unsophisticated, gloriously obscure location. This truly epitomises life on Zaffina.
Before we depart, we pop into the kitchen to say thank you to Mama, who has provided this memorable and delicious meal, and then set off back to Zaffina.
After some debate, we decide to leave Levitha the following morning and continue on our route to Amorgos. We had hoped to visit the eastern Cyclades islands two years ago when we were in the central Aegean, but due to the winds in the region, they sadly slipped off our agenda. Now we can see Santorini on the horizon as we cruise along the coast of Amorgos, and debate whether to just head there instead and experience again the stunning volcanic island that we enjoyed so much on our
previous visit. However, experience tells us that the marina facilities are minimal in Santorini and so we stay on track for our planned destination. Clinging onto the cliff side, high above the sea, is an impressive, bright-white, eight-storey building, the monastery of Panagia Hozoviotissa; we ponder a while on why it was built in such a dramatic and inaccessible location, and check in the pilot book but no explanation is forthcoming, so we take a few photographs and head around to what we hope will be the more sheltered side of the island. It isn’t.
Although the anchorages are truly beautiful, and at this time of year totally uncrowded, whichever one we choose seems exposed to the wind. We meander from one to another, finally opting to take our chances on the first bay we considered. The wind drops away entirely and our second night of the season at anchor is nothing short of perfection. Dusk falls gently as the sun dissolves languidly into the now serene sea, and I light candles in the cockpit as we sip one of our favourite Greek wines (yes, there are a few very good ones!) and try to absorb the ambience and flawlessness of this moment.
VIBRANT VILLAGES
The next morning, after a rustic breakfast and taking time to feed the fish swimming in profusion around our boat, we too decide that we should move on. We would like to go ashore and turn Zaffina towards the small port that we spied on our travels yesterday. On the nearby shoreline, with its foundations almost in the water, is the sort of church you only ever see in Greece; with dazzling white walls supporting a Mediterranean blue dome and equally vivid steps leading to a small mooring site. One church is never enough for a Greek village, and I can see another three or four as we approach the tiny port, but my attention is brought back to the job at hand as we get closer. There is nowhere available to tie up and as going ashore was more of a whim than a necessity, we’re loath to drop anchor, so we opt instead to move on.
Today we have no clear destination in mind, which gives us the opportunity to simply follow our impulses and do some exploring. We head over a pleasant but not entirely smooth sea towards Shinoussa, with the idea that we may find a good anchorage, and as we approach we can see several potential places. But the wind that is slowly rising is one we are familiar with, one that we have christened a “noserly” because whichever way we turn, this one turns with us and is always right on the nose. Sure enough, as we edge into each anchorage, it follows us and promises disruption if we choose to drop the hook. This is no more than a slight inconvenience; we know we are being finicky because we have no clear destination in mind, and are more than happy to press on until we find something that suits.
SEEKING SHELTER
We are on passage between Shinoussa and Iraklia, with Naxos just ahead of us. After abandoning the anchorages on Shinoussa, we spy a beautiful bay across the channel on Iraklia and Frank turns Zaffina towards the shore. Although there is only one yacht in situ and the wind isn’t bad here, our visit is short lived and I realise that my skipper has other ideas in mind.
Naxos is one of the few of the larger Cyclades that we intended to visit during our summer in the central Aegean but never quite managed to reach. Perhaps we have the opportunity to do so today. We emerge from the narrow channel between the smaller islands and head towards the coast of Naxos but we are soon given a blunt reminder of why we failed to get here last time: wind. This is no longer just an annoying “noserly”, it is the sort of wind that yachties love and motorboaters avoid, and as the wind rises, so do the waves. Naxos is to starboard and Paros is to port, and although the former is close, we are more familiar with the latter and we know that its northern extreme offers a very well sheltered anchorage.
Naoussa is one of our all-time favourite anchorages; we have sheltered here many times and with a narrow entrance leading to a wide inlet, we know it provides great protection regardless of the wind direction. The voyage from southern Naxos to northern Paros is onerous and tedious; with the sea against us, we make slow progress and are relieved to finally complete what started earlier today as a pleasant meandering journey. As anticipated, the anchorage is a haven of calm and it doesn’t take us long to make fast in the familiar surroundings. We celebrate in our usual fashion: a dip in the warm sea followed by a cool glass of wine.
A few days later we finally make it to Naxos and are charmed by the delightful town. We are given a berth right at the entrance to the port – not the most restful situation, but a great place to watch the comings and goings of this little harbour. It is the end of May and this is without doubt the best time to visit these islands, which become so crowded during the summer months. We have our choice of restaurants and cafes, and the narrow lanes are uncrowded as we explore the area and climb to the ancient castle that dominates the town. One of the best views is from the Port Authority’s office, and we ponder that the officials can remain so dour (a polite word for grumpy) when their office is in such an idyllic situation!
Time is running out; we are due back in Kos in just a few days’ time and although this trip back to the Cyclades has been a brief one, we know that the memories we have accumulated in just a couple of weeks are ones that will shine for years to come. After watching the sun set over Paros, we have one last extremely good dinner in Naxos and a leisurely stroll through the town to seal the experience, and then, the following morning, cast off our ropes and head back down that same channel that was so unwelcoming on our trip north. This time conditions are exceptional as the sun blazes down on us from an intense, clear blue sky. Frank is in his element at the wheel, whilst I laze, stretched out on the cushions with a good book, both of us relishing smooth passage over a glacially calm sea. Our wake carves a vivid snowy trail as we chart a path between Kato Koufonissia and Keros towards Kos and we relax, little knowing that we will one day look back on this as one of the most significant trips we ever made on