OUTNUMBERED AFLOAT
Michael Blyth explores the Greek islands in a Bavaria 40 with his wife and three daughters
The morning sun was warm on my back as I eased the oars into the water. Pulling gently, I allowed the dinghy to follow as my daughter, Lucy, swam slowly through the water, head below the surface, scanning the bottom for treasure. Through the crystal water myriads of black sea-urchins clung to rocks of green-blue porcelain. It was not these Lucy was looking for but their spineless deceased relatives. The water swirled as she dived, returning to the dinghy with a grin and another specimen.
There had not been time to go all that far after our handover at the Sail Ionian charter base, so we had headed for Vathi on Meganisi, a charming small harbour. An inconveniently timed gust slewed us awkwardly as we eased astern into the remaining narrow berth. I called for the anchor to be lifted; it made more sense to start again. The crew either side took our stern lines as I cut the prop and drifted the last couple of metres. Looking at the five girls on board, my wife Louise, three daughters – Tamara, Bea and Lucy – and Rebe, Bea’s Spanish friend, the line takers wanted to know whether we anchored by committee.
Supper at the harbour-side restaurant provided the perfect opportunity to plan our week’s adventure aboard our Bavaria 40, Escapade, and we all agreed that Paxos should be our target.
We had two options: either sail south and round Levkas, or navigate up through the Levkas canal - that amazing construction started by the Corinthians in the 7th century, that turns Levkas into an island. We chose the latter.
THWARTED DEPARTURE
Attempts to sail the next morning met mixed success in the fickle breeze, and it was not long before we gave up, furled sails, and the girls returned to besmirch the foredeck with sun-cream marks.
Approaching the canal from the south is supposedly easier, but it does mean that you are on the shallower side, so any ‘water-hogging’ boats coming in the opposite direction can make it quite hazardous. At Levkas town everything becomes a little less scruffy. The marina provides a useful place to top up with fuel, water, and if waiting for the bridge, an ice-cream from a nearby supermarket. We missed the hourly opening of the bridge so set anchor in a slightly deeper patch, and waited. Once we passed through, leaving the beautiful medieval castle of Agia Mavra to starboard, we were out into the open sea, and we hoisted sail and happily headed for Préveza in the good breeze.
Préveza, is simply an airport with a rather unkempt industrial suburb, best left behind in favour of elsewhere. From the sea however, as we passed up through the swirling Steno Prévezis, it was beautiful, with houses painted in muted Mediterranean colours, adorned with black wrought-iron balconies.
We used the engine at quite high revs to make our way against the flow on the inside of the bend, the girls keeping look-out in the quite narrow channel.
A turtle buoyed to the surface before diving again in the turbulent water. The inland sea and National Park of Amvrakikós Kólpos has a reputation for wildlife including dolphins and Dalmatian pelicans, of which we saw neither.
The approach to Amvrakikós Kólpos was the site of the Battle of Actium, in which the forces of Augustus defeated those of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra, but that was some time before we arrived.
Vónitsa is a small harbour guarded by a hilltop fortress. We moored, stern-to as ever, to a modern jetty abutting the melee of small, brightly coloured fishing boats, probably little changed from the times of Augustus, apart from the outboard motors.
Supper was a slightly quirky experience; the waiter gave us a table but a metre or so from the gently lapping water, and we sat by lamplight looking across at the mountains, decorated with a soft purple by the fading light.drama ensued when Lucy woke me at 0300 to say that Bea and Rebe were not in their bunks. I found them wrapped up fast asleep on the foredeck.
Next morning, in the hope of seeing pelicans we headed towards the north shore until the water got too shallow, before turning and heading for the
From the sea, Prévezis was beautiful, with houses painted in muted Mediterranean colours
Preveza channel, scanning the dazzling water for sight of one of the bottlenose dolphins that inhabit this sadly toxic sea.
Passing through Steno Prévezis we set the sails, but in vain. The motion of the water was such that what little wind there was did not fill the sails sufficiently to allow progress. The journey to west-northwest was quite uncomfortable, but it would have made no sense to alter course.
TAKING A DIP IN EMERALD WATERS
Approaching Paxos, the girls made it quite clear that they were more interested in having a swim than ensuring a berth. The nearest option was a pleasant bay known as Emerald Bay, bragging the ‘clearest waters in the Ionian’, on the second largest of the islands, Anti Paxos. As expected, the girls spent exorbitant amounts of time snorkelling, and I took the dinghy to take some photographs.
Returning to Escapade, I realised that we should have been well on our way to our chosen anchorage on Paxos, and suggested that the water-maidens should extract themselves most verily from the briny, or if they wanted we could anchor here for the night. They eventually conformed, and voted for Paxos itself with the promise of a restaurant, rather than my smoked salmon risotto.
With the anchor at the surface and being cleaned, I set us on our way. Suddenly, there was a yell from the foredeck that the anchor was paying out rather than coming in. They had pressed the button to bring the anchor in, but the opposite had ensued, and we now had quite a length of chain hanging below the boat.
Trying to troubleshoot the problem solved nothing. A quote from the past came back to me: ‘a nonfunctioning piece of equipment had been brought to life by a resounding blow from a hammer’, wielded by
a mechanic, whose motto was ‘and if it don’t work I get a bigger bloomin’ hammer’. Relayed to the engineer at the charter base, we agreed that it was worth a try. I bashed the control unit hard on the deck, and the anchor began rising from the water. We were soon on our way. Delayed as we had been by extraction of both crew and anchor from the sea, dusk was drawing curtains on the day as we turned into the anchorage between the islet of Mongonisi and the rest of Paxos. There was one narrow slot between a French and a Dutch yacht, both of whom made it obvious that they would stand and watch rather than offer assistance. The combined forces of the French and Dutch were not going to drive me elsewhere that night and we slipped between them.
The next day the girls went cliff jumping, and I took the dinghy across for a quiet frost- covered tankard of beer at a small bar. Soon discovered, the silence was shattered, drinks and pizza were ordered.
A LANGUID WAY OF LIFE
Our final halt on Paxos was the beautiful horseshoeshaped port of Lakka, surrounded by olive trees. A near-perfect anchorage, albeit crowded, even in early September. Seeking a quiet spot I reversed Escapade until in a smidge of water. It was still so far from the shore that I had to hail a passerby, to take extra rope to the girls taking the stern-lines ashore.
First mate and skipper relished a few moments to ourselves, dispatching crew to explore. Leaning against the mast ‘avec un verre de vin’, peace suffused our souls. Supper followed, rather too noisy for my liking, but pleasant enough by the harbour-side.
Another lazy start followed the next day with coffee ashore. Dozens of tourists arrived on a large boat, coming ashore like a tidal wave, settling on the beach like storm-tossed seaweed, engulfing the first two streets in enthusiastic babble. Within the hour they were gone.
Our final halt was the beautiful horseshoe-shaped
port of Lakka, surrounded by olive trees
The sands of time were running out on our charter, and we had to get back. We crossed to the mainland, and came to rest by the beautiful hillside town of Parga. Despite its mainland location, it carried the aroma of the islands. Yachts were directed to moor up alongside a rather odd sea-wall. There were no facilities and we were out of fresh water.
Collected by ferry and taken to town, we had a special birthday to celebrate – Bea’s 18th – and to everyone’s delight found the Restaurant Maistro. The girls all fell in love with the very attentive owner’s son, and the food was excellent.
We left early next morning, slipping through a gentle mist that drifted wraith-like a metre above the water. Hoping for an early shop to purchase drinking water, I bought Escapade into the town quay and placed her bows between two fishing boats, kissing the jetty wall. I had expected the girls to hold the bows while Louise ran into town. They all went with her! I backed off and waited until they returned, clutching bottles of water.
After sailing close to the beautiful undulating coastline, we passed through the Levkas canal and southwards. Our final night was spent at Kálamos where we were battered by a vicious katabatic wind. The following day we anchored in a bay on the northeast of Meganisi before returning to Vlikho.