On Saturday, May 24, we woke to light cloud cover and calm conditions in Port Kastos. As we completed our departure preparations, the soft clanging of bells alerted us to a flock of sheep being herded along the road by a shepherd, who was clad in traditional shepherd’s garb of T-shirt and shorts, assisted by his dog. The sheep, so bushy with wool that we could barely see their heads, were all bunched up together, looking like one giant grey puffball moving along on dozens of tiny stick legs.
We cast off at 0845, motoring three miles to little Port Kalamos, and “Med-mooring” bow-in to the quay, where a handful of yachts and local fishing boats were tied up. Once secure, we walked down to a waterfront taverna for a light breakfast of strong Greek coffee and fresh bread with butter and jam. Thus fortified, Ken filled our water jugs at the quay, and we set to work doing a little laundry and washing the cockpit. At four in the afternoon the charter yachts began dribbling in, taking berthing instructions via VHF from a “mother ship”, and being greeted at quayside by local taverna owner George with a smile and a hearty “Welcome to Kalamos!”. By six o’clock the quay was full, and we were all wedged in, shoulder to shoulder. With about two dozen yachts crowding the little harbor, it was no surprise during the following morning’s exodus to find that several boats had fouled each other’s anchor chains, providing us with something to look at as we watched them sort themselves out. We avoid these harbors whenever anchoring out is an option, preferring the music of birdsong and goat bells to the sounds of busy waterfronts.
We departed Kalamos after two days, motoring in a flat calm. We were westbound for the tadpole-shaped island of Meganisi, 14 miles away, whose north shore is indented with several protected little bays and natural harbors. We’d had a quiet and drama-free departure from the quay, but were soon confronted with an embarrassing reminder that we’re not perfect yet. We arrived at Port Atheni and entered a secluded little cove near the harbor, but when we went to drop the hook, we discovered to our chagrin that it was already in the water. We’d lowered it a few feet when we tied up back in Kalamos to prevent its banging into the quay, and, seasoned sailors that we are, we’d neglected to snug it back up onto the bow roller when we left. Poor SD had the thing hanging off her nose like a millstone for the whole 14 miles. Good thing we’d had calm conditions!
Our quiet cove had a scenic backdrop of low tree-covered hills and a small pebbly beach. The gin-clear water beckoned for a swim, so in we went, but it turned out to be pretty nippy, and we were grateful that the warm beach was just a short distance away.
In the morning, we left the dinghy on the beach and walked along a little dirt track that skirts the harbor of Port Atheni. From there we turned up onto a small paved road toward the village of Katomeri. The road winds uphill past low stone walls bordering olive groves and a few fruit trees. One lone sheep stood hopefully at a fence gate, looking disappointed when we passed without feeding him or freeing him, grumpily refusing to smile for his photo-op.
Katomeri village itself is quaint and picture-postcard Greek, its homes sporting brightly painted shutters, cascades of colorful flowers, and narrow streets paved with irregular slate-like stones. Old Greek women, dressed all in black, chatted on porches or sat on shady patios working at traditional crafts. We passed one elderly lady busily crocheting or tatting some lacy article, and down the road, another wove a shawl on an ancient loom. We stopped to admire her work, and she held out the old wooden bobbin to show us her thread, explaining, “Coton” (cotton).
We departed our Atheni cove on Thursday, May 29, westbound again, and three miles later were anchor-down in another miniature scenic cove near Meganisi’s capital city of Vathi. Capital city it may be, but it looks more like a small, colorful village, so we dinghied ashore, only to be chased back to SD 45 minutes later by ominous black clouds, complete with lightning and thunder. We timed our departure perfectly, managing to get caught in the full downpour in the middle of the channel, and arrived home soaked to the skin.
We had a pleasant three-day sojourn in Vathi, watching the parade of charter boats and ferries passing in and out of the harbor, and made a trip ashore one sunny day for a leisurely walk-about through the town.
On June first, a Sunday, we motor-sailed five miles under fair skies to the island of Levkas, passing the private island of Skorpios (once owned by the Onassis family) less than a quarter mile to starboard. The island is now owned by a wealthy Russian, but security is still tight, with armed guards ashore to protect the privacy of owners and guests. The fame of the previous owners lives on, however, and we heard one yacht crew chatting on VHF with another, describing their location as offshore of “Jackie O’s beach house”.
Aristotle Onassis was a frequent visitor to the tavernas of Nidri, and a statue of the man stands on the quay, as his patronage and renown brought fame and a whole bunch of tourist money to the town. Boy, did it ever, in spades!
“Is that you, Mr. Onassis?”
Nearing our destination at Nidri, we expected to find an active harbor, but were shocked to see more than a hundred boats in the bay and berthed at the docks along the waterfront, which itself is packed with colorful shops and tavernas. Ferries, private cruisers, fishing boats, and several fleets of charter yachts clogged the quay areas. We chose a quiet spot to anchor among about a dozen other yachts across the channel from the hubbub, in aptly named Tranquil Bay.
SD (center of photo) at anchor in Tranquil Bay
Looking north from Vlikho up toward Nidri. Nidri town is at far upper left.
We spent a few sunny days strolling the little streets, although on one cold, rainy, windy day we found ourselves boat-bound by the weather. We woke the next morning to find the dinghy with 10 gallons of muddy water sloshing inside, and a noxious coating of muddy red dirt all over SD and her decks and gear. We found out later from locals that when the wind and rain come from the south, they carry this mess all the way from Africa. It took us hours to clean everything up.
We rented a motorbike one morning to tour the island, roughly rounding the perimeter. Levkas is only an island because of a man-made canal on the NE “corner” which dates to antiquity, and which separates it from mainland Greece. The bridge to the mainland is actually a floating swing bridge, basically a big barge-like affair that raises a ramp at each end and pivots to allow the passage of transiting vessels. We stopped to watch it in action, as we’ll be one of the parade of yachts when we head north.
Above: The Levkas Canal swing bridge in action.
Below: Yachts in transit as the bridge stands by on the east side of the canal.
Continuing our ride, we agreed that Levkas is one of the loveliest islands we’ve seen. Every turn of the winding and often steep road brought fresh vistas of the sparkling Ionian Sea far below us, or of the steep limestone mountains towering above, their slopes carpeted with pine and cypress trees. Thick stands of bright “yellow broom” wildflowers lined the roads and covered the hillsides on the west coast, their subtle sweet scent reminiscent of orange blossoms. In contrast, there were no flowers on the eastern side of the mountains, but the hills were thick with olive trees, and the distinctive fragrances of sun-warmed rosemary and sage filled the air.
Fragrant “yellow broom” flowers
The spectacular Ionian Sea, seen from a mountain road on Levkas’ west coast, Pretty beaches line the shore.
We treated ourselves one evening to a night on the town, heading in at seven o’clock to a quayside taverna for an outstanding pizza (with local anchovies) cooked in a wood-fired oven. That hour is pretty early for dinner by European standards, but by the time we’d finished our meal and were people-watching, relaxing over cold glasses of complimentary ouzo, the tavernas were filling up. We took a stroll along the waterfront, now sparkling with thousands of tiny lights, and along the traffic-free main road. All tavernas were full, and all shops open for business, and the town was in full-on festive mode, with the sounds of Greek music drifting on the breeze.
With lots to see and do (and eat and drink!), we’ll linger a bit longer before heading north. We’ll probably rent a motor-bike for another day of touring, this time sight-seeing a bit in the island’s main town of Levkas, with its museums, ruins, and old churches. We’ll never be able to sample all the wonderful food that Greece has to offer, but we’re trying to make a dent, and we’ve already got some favorites. Local feta cheese, yogurt, olives, and pita gyros are regular treats for us, as is the classic Greek yogurt/cucumber/garlic dip called “tzatziki”, but which Ken refers to as “suzuki”. The ouzo, Greece’s famous anise-flavored cordial, is also a special treat, one which we can only enjoy at a taverna, a it is meant to be served over ice (which we don’t have), with ice water (ditto) added, turning it a cloudy white. As with France’s “pastis”, it is meant to be sipped slowly while relaxing, chatting, people-watching, or whatever. We’ll no doubt indulge in a leisurely glass one more time before we bid farewell to Nidri.
Cheers! K&K
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