For a week in May, 2022, Debbie and I, along with Mac Collins and his wife Suzy, chartered a 2021 41’ Jeanneu Sun Odyssey, Chimera, from Panos and Virginia Batistatso of SailingIonianSea.com. Chimera is a double helmed, double rudder, squared stern sloop with three cabins and two heads. Neither Debbie nor I had ever sailed a boat with two angled rudders before and, oh boy, what a difference. Always having a rudder in the water that is more or less perpendicular to the hull makes for easy handling; even in the stiffest breezes we encountered over the week, Chimera never had the least little bit of weather helm. Both Debbie and I were over-the-top impressed with Chimera’s sailing performance.
And while we are handing out accolades, I’d just like to say that even though Debbie is a self described helm hog (she uses a different term, but this is a family friendly blog so we won’t go there) I continue to be over-the-top impressed with Debbie’s sailing skills; Charlie Jessup you done good. We’ve had some fantastic sailing adventures and this week in May 2022 was among the best yet.
Our first day was out of Lefkás Marina and down to Maríno Zampáti Bay and Taverna Panos & Babis Konidaris. Panos Batistatso has seen a lot of charter captains’ anxiety about getting the boat out of, and back into, the tight berths at the Lefkas Marina. To make your experience chartering with him as stress-free as possible, Panos drives the boat out of the Marina for you and gives you a quick stern-to docking lesson at the conveniently located fuel dock. The fuel dock, or fuel station as they call it there, is located at the southern most point of the Marina which is where the long channel out to sea, and your adventure, begins. It’s the perfect place for some brief instruction on stern-to docking from Panos. After getting our departing instructions, I backed the stern up to the fuel dock, Panos jumped off and away we went.
Panos had arranged, as, I presume, he does for all his charters for the owner or Porto Spilio Marina, Babis, to greet us dockside at his Marina where we would spend the first night. Docking in Europe is different than the United States. In Europe, there are no slips. Boats go in stern-to and either drop an anchor in the harbor thirty to fifty meters off the dock while backing up or, when available, grab a “muck” line when your stern nears the dock. Either way you snug-up to the boat beside you, or squeeze into a space between two boats. Also, fenders, lots of fenders; fenders are used so much that you don’t even store them while underway. Simply pulling them up and fastening both ends to the safety line is sufficient in the Med.
When you are close enough, you toss two stern lines to dockhands who pull you in about a meter off the dock while the bow person either tightens the anchor or pulls the muck line tight. That’s it. I was fairly anxious about the whole thing, but after a couple of practice runs backing up and with guidance from Babis, it wasn’t hard at all. The worst part happens in busy ports where anchor chains get tangled. We had an adventure in Fiskardo where, even though we were last in and first out, our anchor picked up someone else’s chain. But more on that later.
May 14, 2022 - Lafkada Marina to Meganisi
First things first. The brief instruction from Panos at the fuel dock was great, but a little extra practice backing up would make from a more successful docking at Porto Spilio Marina We practiced in one of the fingers of Okapela Bay on the North side of Meganisi. As I mentioned, this was my first time working with a duel rudder vessel and I wanted a little more familiarity backing up before attempting a long dreaded Mediterranean docking. We found a quiet set of inlets that Panos had recommended as a good anchorage on the Northern end of Meganisi. I tried first and was, umm, helped with lots of coaching, from Debbie and Mac. Once I sort of got the hang of it Debbie took her turn. After a few tries her empathy level increased noticeably. It didn’t take too many tries till she conceded it’s tougher than she thought.
A bit more comfortable with backing up, we headed over to Marínou Zampáti Bay where Babis was waiting for us at Porto Spilio Marina (Water and Electricity free for Taverna Panos & Babis Konidaris customers). Babis guided us in masterfully as he had undoubtedly done for thousands before us, making it all seem so simple-which it really is; just turn the wheel in the direction you want to go and keep your backwards momentum with short strong bursts of the throttle (in reverse mostly, occasionally in forward to correct you direction). Babis’ marina had “muck” lines-lines fastened to cement blocks on the bottom of the marina channel at one end and fastened to the dock at the other. As you get close to the dock, you grab the muck line with a boat hook near the stern and walk it forward. Once the stern lines are secured, you tighten the muck line firmly at the bow and voila, you are snuggled up for the night. Oh, also put out your fenders early and often-good fenders make good neighbors.
The Taverna at Porto Spilio is an open air pavilion with a covered platform and beach seating. Diners are greeted by the host and escorted to a glassed-in display of fresh fish on ice and, the night we were there, a pasta dish. You make your selection which is then prepared and a waiter brings it to your table. While we were waiting for our entrees a jazz quintet was setting up. We had seen them earlier in the day carrying their instruments, most notably a stand up base, down Pier A at the Lefkada Marina which is the same dock as SailingIonianSea.com’s home base. By the time we’d finished our dinners, the quintet was knocking out jazz standards including a Cannonball Adderley style rendition of Joe Zawinul’s “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy”. Long after we had finished dinner, they continued into the night serenading us as we dozed off on Chimera.
Jazz Quintet that followed us through out our trip.
May 15, 2022 - Meganisi to Kalamos 16.1NM 3H 54M
Marínou Zampáti Bay on Meganisi where we had spent the night at the docks of Taverna Porto Spilla to Kalamos near Asprogiali Beach on the Northwest side of the island. 16.1 NM 3 hours 54 minutes max speed 8.3 knots
The next morning, Sunday, I got up and climbed the thirteen flights, a two hundred foot vertical accent to Spartochori. Spartochori (453 inhabitants) is a quaint little village perched high above Marínou Zampáti Bay with narrow-maybe twelve foot wide-streets paved with one to two foot stone slabs embedded in mortar. A lot of travel guides refer to these streets as cobblestone, but I think of cobblestone as round stone two to ten inches wide. These are more like slab streets-although no one ever uses that term-that are similar to English patios from the tutor era.
The tight passages twist and intertwine upward for another seventy foot ascent over a winding mile. I made the trek up to Spartochori twice; once with Mac whom I met half way up as he was coming down and again with the whole group after Mac and I returned to the boat to rouse the girls. On the second trip into the village, Mac and Suzanne visited a church and Debbie shopped while I sipped an espresso in a cafe over looking the Bay. This pattern, Mac and Suzanne investigating the Homeric Islands Odysseus’ kingdom origins, Debbie shopping, and me taking quiet refuge would repeat throughout the sailing adventure.
We got started on a four hour jaunt for our first full day sailing at 11:00. The wind, disappointing at first, but, as we would learn, was following a consistent pattern; it picked up between noon and 1:00 PM and blew into the evening. We made our way around Meganisi tacking 7 times and doing a brisk 6 knots speed over ground (SOG). Here we worked out our roles; Debbie at the helm, Mac the slacker, me on trim, and Suzanne studying the guide book in order to pepper us with interesting facts about places we were passing. By the time we got to the North side of Kalamos it was time to think about where to spend the night. A big part of our decision making was that we wanted a good vantage to see a rare lunar eclipse in the wee hours of the morning of the 16th. We also wanted to try the whole long line thing. Long lining involves pulling a, well, long line from your stern to shore while anchored from your bow.
With the dinghy launched, the little 2.5 Honda outboard attached, Suzanne and I ventured out with the bright yellow floating long line. The idea was to loop one end around a rock formation bringing the other end back to a cleat on Chimera‘s stern. While we were tying off the long line, Debbie and Mac were backing the boat toward us, the plan being to meet in the middle. Let’s just say it wasn’t our most successfully executed plan. Suzanne got the line looped around the rock formation, that part went well. When we tried to get the line back to the boat we discovered that the line was heavier than the little Honda could handle and we couldn’t quite stretch it tight, rather the line kept pulling us sideways. At the same time Chimera was too far away from us and we literally reached the end of our rope. That’s right folks, we came to the bitter end and were still a good 30 meters from Chimera. Debbie was having trouble backing toward us. Chimera kept spinning around so that her port and then starboard side was facing us and still 20-30 meters away. Mac let out plenty of chain, but Chimera kept spinning away from the dinghy, further away with each meter of chain dropped.
Fortunately, an experienced long liner came to our rescue his red inflatable. The rather large man, whose abdomen cascaded over his swim trunks to such an extent that all four of us thought he was nude, was, we would learn, a full time cruiser. He was with one of the four boat that had set up earlier near us. He used his more powerful outboard to push Chimera’s stern around so she finally reached Suzanne and me. Getting the long line secured to the stern cleat gave us the ability to let out more chain while tightening the long line. After awhile we decided we’d reached a good balance and set back to enjoy the pastel sunset pictured below.
We didn’t see the lunar eclipse. Mac might have gotten up, I sure didn’t. It happened behind a mountain, or so we thought, out of viewing range for us, so I’m glad I slept in. We didn’t try long lining again. When next we do, we’ll be sure to get much closer to shore before dropping anchor. I’m used to the Chesapeake Bay which is very shallow everywhere making running aground a constant concern. In most sea island settings you don’t have the same concern and need to get quite close to shore before it’s shallow enough to drop anchor which also puts you close enough for your long line to reach from the boat to the shore.
May 16, 2022 - Kalamos to Atokos - 17NM, 4H 42M
Asprogiali Beach on Kalamos to Kioni via a failed attempt to anchor at Atokos (One House Island)
The day started out calm, yet with enough wind to push us along at 4 to 5 knots, which is quite pleasant. We sailed on the western side of Kastos, tacking back and forth toward the mainland just north of Astakos. We cleared Kastos around noon and, as we came to expect during our two weeks we were on and around the Islands of the Ionian Sea, the wind whipped up between Noon and 1:00 PM. On this day the wind really picked up. We had a brisk sail on one long tack from the middle of Kastos to the Southwest side of the little, sparsely inhabited Isand of Atokos (a.k.a. One House Island-and yes, we saw the one house). Somewhere along this stretch we were doing 8.5 knots (albeit briefly); for the most part we were cruising sweetly at 6-7 knots. The day was getting on and we thought we’d try the small inlet where the One House sits to spend the night.
At first we tried to tack into Atokos, but the wind kept getting stronger and was directly on our nose. Several times back and forth with little forward progress forced us to crank up the Yanmar. We could see two sail boats in One House Cove. I checked a user review in Navionics and found that: “This is the best spot where to drop your anchor and take a line ashore is a must if you want to stay overnight! Afternoon gusts of prevailing winds W/NW AND evening strong catabolic downdraft is too fastidious! Water visibility is superb!”
I do not know what a catabolic downdraft is and how a downdraft can be fastidious. Google told me that “A katabatic wind (named from the Greek word κατάβασις katabasis, meaning "descending") is a drainage wind, a wind that carries high-density air from a higher elevation down a slope under the force of gravity. Such winds are sometimes also called fall winds; the spelling catabatic winds is also used.”
Reaching the cove we quickly found that high-density air was most certainly was being carried from somewhere because, man, it was blowing. Blowing fastidiously? I don’t know about fastidiously, like a MF maybe, but I know it was blowing too hard for us to anchor, much less long line. We tried a bunch of times, checked the time and decided we had enough day left to make a run for it to Kioni on the Island of Ithaca.
We motored the 6 KM to Kioni in a surprisingly chilly, outside the spray hood anyway, wind and a most unhappy sea. Winds exceeded 25 knots and swells were in the 2 meter range. There has been much debate over the years about wave size. To me if I can visualize myself standing in the trough and the crest would be just over my head, that’s 2 meters; I’m 5/10” on a good day.
The entrance to Kioni is marked by the remnants of three windmills making it somewhat easy to find. We anchored in Kioni’s lovely, well sheltered, bay for the night but didn’t take a long line ashore. We didn’t take ourselves ashore either, but instead enjoyed a large meal, the largest onboard of the trip, prepared by Suzanne and Mac. Lesson learned was that clean up for a single pot meal is a lot friendlier on the water reserves than one that tries out the boat’s inventory of pots and pans. Nevertheless, the meal-and Mac and Suzy doing all the cooking and clean-up-was greatly welcomed after our adventurous day.
Debbie in her happy place
May 17, 2022 - Kioni to Fiskardo - 18.3NM 4H 01M
Kioni on the Island of Ithaca to Fiskardo on the Island of Cephalonia
We got underway just before 10:00 A.M. on Tuesday with a slow exit from Kioni Port past the three windmills marking the entrance. As expected there wasn’t much wind for the first hour. We had the iron jenny running at the recommended 2200 RPMs. An hour or so into our day the wind arrived, a little earlier than usual. Its arrival coincided with our clearing the Island of Ithaca, so not sure which factor led to the welcomed boost, but off we went. Our average SOG popped from 3 to 6 knots quickly as we pointed toward the Island of Arkoudi for 15 minutes then tighten our tack a good 30° establishing our NE tack for the day. A half hour later we tacked 45° into the wind sending us SE. We only stayed on that tack for 10 minutes, then back to our NE tack. We zig zagged on these two tacks for the rest of the day with each tack getting a little longer till the final SE tack lasted an hour and took us right into Fiskardo at a quarter past three in the afternoon; four sweet hours of sailing around the Northern tip of Ithaca. It was a fine day.
As per our send off meeting, I WhatsApped (which is a verb outside the United States, much as Googled is a verb universally) Panos for help setting us up with a spot at the city dock. Panos connected us with Theodor via VHF who was standing at the end of the city dock in a blue shirt waving his arms at us. Somehow the crew decided a man in a white shirt on the opposite side of the harbor was Theodor; turns out he wasn’t. There was also a lot of urging to long line near the entrance to the harbor alongside other vessels where there seemed to be ample room, but I stuck to Panos’ plan-his decades long local knowledge and connections had served us well so far.
Eventually we figured out who Theodor was and what he was telling us to do in his thick Greek accent - we’ll have to forgive him for his accent since we were, after all, in Greece - over the VHF (which was down in the salon and not in the cockpit making communications between him and me through Debbie a little confusing). Mostly his instructions were “keep coming, keep coming, keep coming” into the U shaped, seemingly very crowded harbor. “But what about those nice open spots near the harbor entrance”, I thought-nope, it was just “keep coming, keep coming” deeper and deeper into the terrifyingly crowded chaos of the anchor chain infested harbor. Finally, and much to my horror, there was Theodor, standing at the apex of the U between a 51’ Catamaran (just slightly smaller than an aircraft carrier) and a cluster of monohull sloops all with their anchor chains crisscrossing each other and their crews anxiously staring at us with extra fenders in hand ready for the ensuing disaster.
Now Theodor was instructing, “back in here, back in here”. What? NO!. F*%K. At this point the entire town of Fiskado had come to watch the stupid Americanos humiliate themselves. Okay, deep breath, don’t think, just do, gel coat be damned I’m coming back. It wasn’t just straight back, but straight back with a dog leg to starboard around the Catamaran. The crew of the Catamaran had gone into full scramble mode throwing massive fenders over the side where we might collide (bump really) and holding extras fenders the size of a small child in their hands for emergency use.
The bow thruster was still working at this point, sort of. I got one or two little blasts out of it and then it retracted and decided it wasn’t going to come down for the rest of the trip. But I didn’t really need it. A few strong bursts with the throttle and a gentle adjustment of the helm (in the direction you want to turn, just like backing up a car - except this thing didn’t have a back-up camera - in the direction you want to turn, just keep repeating that to yourself) and we coasted into the exact spot into which Theodor was coaching us. No Gel Coat lost. As we prepared to tie off the stern lines, Theodor realized we (Mac) hadn’t dropped the anchor. Mac was only doing what he’d been told to do, which was “don’t do anything until you are told to do something”, and no one had told him to drop the anchor.
Now there was a lot of loud talking in Greek and then one of Theodor’s guys, a rather large middle aged Greek man with full Greek fisherman beard, jumped aboard, grabbed the helm, throttled us out-way out, back to the middle of the harbor and began shouting “Drop the anchor, drop the anchor, let out more line, more, more line”. He kept shouting, “more line, more line” and backed us right back to where we’d been 3 minutes ago, but this time with our anchor chain laying on top of everyone else’s. Meanwhile, the Catamaran’s first mate was running back and forth holding one of those small child sized fenders yelling at Theodor that our line was laying on top of theirs. Theodor ignored her. Once our stern lines were secured and the anchor chain tightened, Theodor disappeared never to be seen again, the crowd disbursed, the excitement was over, but the Cat’s first mate continued complaining about our anchor line. She insisted that we must leave by 8:00 the next morning so they could leave just after us. This of course was complete bullshit and the drop dead departure time slipped to mid-morning as everyone’s emotions settled.
Exploring Fiskardho, Debbie and I discovered several gems: a bakery, Tselenti Traditional Bakery (where we were crowned “best customers ever” by the owner/baker who gave us free beer and told us to come back in the morning for free coffee), a couple of clothing stores (where both Debbie and I spent lots of money) and Panormos.
Panormos was arguably the best meal we had on the trip. The view was stunning, the service was perfect-which included several chatty visits from the owner-but mainly the cuisine was delightfully creative and refreshing. What I’ve discovered in my travels to Spain, Italy, Cuba, Greece and even France is that each country has an abundance of restaurants that offer a mediocre version of the expected fare (not unlike Cheesesteaks in Philly). Panormos was just off the beaten path enough that it wasn’t overrun with tourist and was catering to the adventurist looking for something beyond the standard fried eggplant or zucchini.
May 18, 2022 - Fiskardho to Sivota - 23.7NM, 6H
Leaving Fiskardho took a while. After an extensive conversation with the captain of our big catamaran neighbor about techniques for getting untangled, we took a deep breath and started pulling in the anchor and releasing the stern lines. We cleared the cat, but, sure enough, we hooked someone else’s anchor chain - not the cat’s thank god, our windlass would have struggled mightily bringing up the cat’s massive chain. Still, it was a struggle to get our anchor, weighted down by another boat’s taut 3/8” chain, up enough to where we could work their chain off our anchor. Fortunately, some heroic Brit jumped in a dinghy and came to our rescue. Panos had provided us with a chain hook, which we had at the ready. We also readied a spare line running through our deck organizer and back to a winch to which we could tie the chain hook’s lead in case we needed more than muscle to raise the hook. With the Brit’s heroic help, we got the hook on the chain and, after many attempts, were eventually able to hold the hooked chain high enough to lower our anchor and work it free.
When the hooked chain was finally free a cheer rose up from around the harbor. We were the morning’s entertainment. When the Brit made it back to the dock another cheer erupted. Whoever he was, he was the man of the hour and will forever have our gratitude.
The whole chain hooking mess took a good thirty minutes to untangle. Once underway we were in for another great day of sailing on what would turn out to be our longest sail of the trip. Our eventual destination was Sivota, but first we wanted to visit the infamous cave where Nazi U-boats had hidden during WWII. We envisioned this cave as something straight out of Indiana Jones where multiple subs where based in a massive cavern built out with docks and catwalks and an army of Nazi technicians dutifully scurrying about refueling and rearming the fleet for their next deadly outing. Actually what we found was a couple of inlets where a sub might hide a quarter of it’s aft parts while enjoying a picnic lunch. We would revisit the caves during Willis Johnston’s Yoga Retreat the following week on Captain George’s excursion boat.
Our first tack of the day was 6NM North/Northwest toward Lefkada averaging 6 knots which, if you are doing the math at home, took an hour. This tack took us directly, albeit a good 3NM off shore, past Urania Villas where Willis’ Yoga Retreat was held. In the days ahead we would gaze out on this stretch of sea and watch many boats make the same trek we were making on this day. When we got a half mile off Lefkada’s second most southern tip, we tacked 90° to the southwest for half and hour, came about for a twenty minute northern heading , followed by a fourty five minute tack across the top of Arkoudi and finally a straight shot for the next half hour to the mid-section of Meganisi’s long tail. It’s here, on Meganisi’s tail, that you’ll find Papanikolis Cave. You will, but we didn’t. Or did we? Again, lots of debate amongst the captain and crew about that factoid. There is nowhere to anchor, cause, you know this is the Ionian Sea where the shore line, which in most cases is just the continuation of a steep mountain slope, drops to 250 meters instantly. The plan, as per Panos, was for the Captain (me) to stay with the boat while the crew took the dinghy into the cave. The wind had been picking up, as it does there, all afternoon. By the time we got to the caves some chop had developed and there was a consistent, building breeze. We’d only launched the dinghy off its bow berth once and that was on glass flat calm water. While Mac and I struggled to hoist the 8’ flat bottom inflatable with the spinnaker halyard, I began to have my doubts. What if the wind continued to increase and they couldn’t get back to the boat in the tiny kinda overcapacity floating coffin? Shouldn’t we be making our way to shelter from the ensuing storm? Weren’t we going to visit the stupid cave next week anyway? I pulled tank and scuttled the mission. After a Man against Nature struggle to get the dinghy re-secured on the bow and some disappointed arguing from the crew, we sailed off to Sivota. It’s lonely at the top.
We sailed for 40 minutes toward Sivota arriving at a quarter to four in the afternoon after our seven hours and 24NM trip. Our timing on getting to Sivota was pretty, pretty, pretty good. No sooner had we arrived and set anchor than I got a WhatsApp from Panos: “Hello John, sorry for bothering, it seems that it will get rough tonight with 5 Bofourt easterly winds!!! So please be prepared!!!”
We were. “We are anchored in Sivota with 50 meters of chain out and plenty of clearance from other vessels. We anchored here around 3:30, and the anchor has held well since then against some stiff 15 knot winds. I’ll stay alert throughout the night”, I replied. We let out another 20 meters of chain (that’s a total of 210’ for you American cretins-sorry for the slur, but the etymology of cretins is from Crete which, of course-unless you really are a cretin and don’t know that Crete-is in Greece) which was probably a good idea given the 25+ knot winds that hammered us all night, but also confused us as to whether or not we had drifted.
In the morning Panos WhatsApped: “Good Morning Friends!!! I see you changed place, was it that rough??” This was the first time we realized there was a tracking device onboard-which, you know what, is fine. If it was my boat I’d do the same. Hell, I track my girlfriend, a couple of my kids, and my sister-and they aren’t nearly as valuable to me as my boat (just kidding guys, I love all of you way more than I love my boat. Which reminds me of my Mom’s joke: A wife says to her husband, “I swear you love football more than you love me”. He thought for a minute and then replied, “but I love you more than basketball”).
The wind receded late in the morning. Mac took the girls to town in the dinghy while I reveled in the quietude of Chimera’s sanctuary. Sivota, it turns out, is a short drive from Urania Villas. On a retreat “free day” Debbie and I rented a car and, along with Mac and Chrissie Tarbitt (a friend from several past Willis retreats), visited Sivota as well as a winery and Vasiliki.
May 19, 2022 - Sivota, Lefkada to Atherinou, Meganisi 13.7 NM, 3 H,
May 19, 2022 - Sivota, Lefkada to Atherinou, Meganisi 13.7 NM, 3 Hours, Max speed 8.4 kts.
Stenó Meganisíou - Stenó Meganisíou is a marine channel in Greece. Stenó Meganisíou is situated south of Nisída Thiliá, and northwest of Órmos Svoúrna
Waiting for the wind to die down and then going into town for drinking water kept us in Sivota into the early afternoon. We got underway a little before 2:00 PM heading for the Northeast side of Meganisi. The wind had died down from the prior night’s stormy levels, but, like Elizabeth Warren, persisted. Or the wind did it usual thing and picked up in the afternoon, or a combination of both. Whatever, there was wind. Once we got a nautical mile off shore we took off hitting 7-8 knots on our first southwesterly tack and then again for the first two NM of our northwesterly tack heading into the Stenó Meganisíou channel between Lafkafda and Meganisi. A mile into the narrowest part of the channel we had to crank up the iron Jenny and motor sail for a couple of miles.
Iron Jenny off and sails full we did some tight tacking for 4 miles along the North side of Meganisi being careful to avoid an unmarked shallow area just off Skorpios which is notorious for unexpected groundings. We’d been sailing for two and a half hours when we reached the western side of Meganisi and started hunting for our anchorage for the night. After the usual disagreement between navigator (me) and helmsperson (Debbie) -Debbie was right this time - we found our way into Atherinos and set the anchor for one last time.
May 20, 2022 - Atherinou, Meganisi to Swimming at Vathiavali Beach to Lefkas Marina, 20.7 Miles, 5 hours
Atherinou, Meganisi to Swimming at Vathiavali Beach to Lefkas Marina, 20.7 Miles, 5 hours, Max Speed 10.4 kts.
I got up just after the sun and rowed the dinghy around Porte Atheni and took a few shots of Chimera at anchor,
Our agenda for this last day of sailing was to head over to Vathiavali Beach, which is on the mainland, for a morning swim till the afternoon wind picks up for a final sail around the oddly unnamed body of water bordered by Lefkada on the West, Meganisi on the South and the mainland on the East-you’d think that after all these centuries someone would have named such a fabled waterway, but it seems to be referred to simply as “the sea”. We got underway at 10:30, caught a little wind, and used a little Jenny to motor sail our hour long voyage to the beach.
We half heartedly dropped the anchor 70 meters off shore onto the white sandy bottom six meters down in the crystal clear sea. I get a little thrill watching the anchor drop all the way to the bottom and see the chain begin to pile along side as I let out more slack. The half-hearted anchoring because I was staying with the boat while the kids went for a swim.
Debbie was first, dangling her feet off the swim platform before taking the plunge. Debbie is an accomplished swimmer; the 70 meters for her was a breeze and she was able to enjoy a solitary stroll on the smooth pebble shore before being joined by Suzanne and then Mac. We stayed at the swimming hole for an hour or so. After the crew returned and we began preparations to get underway we noticed that we were drifting. A building wind had our casually plopped anchor dragging through seaweed beds and out to sea. Up came the seaweed covered anchor, out came the sails and we were once again clipping along on the reliable afternoon wind.
Near the beach is a little island, Ag. Nikolaos, with the ruins of a chapel on it. We tacked back and forth with no other mission than to not run into Nikolaos. After one tack parallel to the shore with Nikolaos between us and the sea, we came about and headed back, this time on the seaside, barely, of our little obstacle. One more tack back, this time a little further out a little faster, we hit 8 knots several times, and then over toward Nikiana on Lefkefda before tacking toward the channel that would take us back the Marina. After an exhilarating two hour sail, we reluctantly cranked up the engine and started the 3 NM ride back to the Lefkas Marina fuel station where Panos was waiting for us. One last time backing into the wind, with no bow thruster, between two also just arrived charters, one last toss of the stern lines-no anchor this time, and just like that (finger snap) Panos hopped aboard, and it was over.
Chimera is a fine sailing vessel. There is very little, actually no, weather helm. She doesn’t heel in a close haul nearly as much as a single rudder, sugar scoop stern mono haul. We didn’t have much headsail, and with the steady, fare afternoon winds we didn’t need it. Maybe she would heel more with more headsail. Her squared off stern, roomy cockpit, continuous loop main sheet (meaning you can trim the main from the either port or starboard helm regardless of tack-I usually trimmed the headsail and the main from the side opposite the helmsperson) makes for easy, stress-free handling. The sailing, the sea, the weather, the scenery, Panos & Virginia-all excellent beyond my widest anticipation. As Arnold Schwarzenegger would say, “I’ll be back”.
