Greece–continued

We departed Milos in mid-afternoon on July 31, for a blustery sail out of the bay, with winds gusting down off the hills as SD sprinted along under headsail and mizzen. Clearing the coast, we turned left to lay a westerly course for Monemvasia, 65 miles distant.  The night passed in the usual roll-y conditions of the Aegean, and the flukey winds had Ken frequently alternating sail arrangements to suit the conditions.  We reached Monemvasia in the pre-dawn, and hove-to for about an hour, entering a little anchorage at first light.  We had our hook down not a moment too soon, as the wind was really honking by 0900.  Conditions kept us aboard all that day, but we dinghied ashore the following morning, parking Loose Change in a tiny protected harbor among the little local fishing boats.
Monemvasia is a hump-backed island with a short causeway connecting it to the Pelopnnisos.  From offshore it resembles the Rock of Gibraltar, and on its south side sits a 6th-century walled Byzantine village, once an important port. From the sea, it appears unchanged from ancient times, although once inside the walls, we found small gift shops, cafes, and even tiny hotels, which have taken up residence in some of the old buildings. Happily, there is no evidence of new construction, and the village retains its charm, as houses, churches, steps, and (very!) narrow streets all remain in their original stone construction.  After dark, the mountain is low-lit to lovely effect, and from aboard SD we could hear a distant female voice singing softly in Greek from a piano bar at the mountain’s base.

Monemvasia

We made an 0645 departure, heading west to round Cape Maleas before turning north to Elafonisos Island. Winds were predicted to be light, but were actually fairly brisk, and the wind and seas increased substantially as we approached the infamous cape. By the time we were actually rounding the cape, we had 6-foot following seas, and the wind was howling. To add to the entertainment in these rowdy conditions, a 40-foot fishing boat, with miles and miles of the Aegean to choose from, had opted instead to motor along just a few yards off our port side. (Note to Dave Reaves: Encroachment!)  The wind went briefly light once we were around the cape, but it was just a tease, as its force abruptly began to increase until it was screaming a full gale, with SD barreling along in a miserable chop with just a scrap of headsail unfurled.
Arriving (finally!) at our anchorage, we got the hook down, but stayed aboard, as the wind remained strong and gusty.  By the next morning, all the drama had spent itself, and at 0615 we weighed anchor and headed out of the bay in light winds and calm seas. It turned out to be one of the most beautiful days we’ve seen, so perfect that we decided to skip our planned anchorage and continue around Cape Tainaron. Tainaron, another cape with a nasty reputation, was believed by ancients to be the entrance to the underworld. Tainaron and the previous day’s Cape Maleas are sometimes known as “twin Cape Horns” because of their notoriously rough seas, described by one source as “some of the roughest water in the Aegean”.

Tainaron Cape off the bow

Tainaron Cape Light

This day, however, we could look down to Tainaron and see nothing but more flat water. In the spirit of “carpe diem”, we changed course and were soon safely around, with the big bad cape fading into the distance. As we continued north in perfect weather, we passed the towering cliffs of Capo Grosso, pockmarked with old pirate caves, close on our east, while to our west there stretched a whole lot of nothing, all the way to North Africa. 
The quiet anchorages at Port Limeni and at Kardamila were small, relaxing overnight stops on our way up to Kalamata.

Kardamila anchorage

Port Limeni anchorage

Village street in Kardamila

In Kalamata,we berthed in the marina, as there is no anchorage. A wonderful paved bike path skirts the top of the bay and runs all the way up to the center of town. We took turns on our shared bike, riding in the cool mornings before the heat of mid-day and the influx of pedestrians, who exhibit an exasperating amount of not looking where they’re going.We’re not marina people, as we hate to part with our money, and being close enough to see your neighbor’s eye color is not a proximity we enjoy. But as long as we had no choice, we took full advantage of the amenities, like cold beer a few steps away, and unlimited fresh water.  Our onboard entertainment was watching the arriving yachts attempt the berthing process, which could be pretty lively if the breeze was up. On such occasions the newcomers would be blown past their target berth, often fetching up unfortunately positioned broadside to one of the berthed boats, whose crew would frantically arm themselves with boat-hooks to fend off the runaway. It was pretty exciting to watch, but undoubtedly not much fun for the participants.
Sometimes this wasn’t entertainment enough to suit Ken, so he decided to inspect our manual bilge pump. He found it to be badly corroded and the rubber flapper valves were no longer flexible. He decided it would be best to replace it instead of trying to resurrect it. This wet, messy project turned out to be even more fun than replacing the toilet pump, and involved several hours of labor and considerable chaos of tools and paraphernalia, and irritable mutterings from the captain.
After several days at Kalamata we departed for quieter waters, anchoring off the little village of Petalidhion, ten miles west, where we were often all alone in the anchorage. We treated ourselves one afternoon to a table at an “ouzery”. This is basically a bar, where old Greek men smoke, drink, laugh, play cards, and smoke some more. The locals took no notice of us (they were too busy smoking), and we sipped our iced-and-ice-watered ouzo and nibbled our olives, delighted to be soaking up local color in a decidedly non-touristy spot.
Next was little Koroni, a 3-night stop in a pretty anchorage at the base of a hill where sits an old monastery and the remains of an ancient fort.  We enjoyed wandering among the ruins, but our night-times were a repeat of Milos, with ear-splitting techno-noise (can’t call it music) blasting from a club on the quay. It marred an otherwise pleasant visit.

Koroni water front anchorage

Monastery of St. John the Baptist at Koroni

Cemetery at the Monastery (I see dead people)

Ancient ruins of St. Sophia Church at Koroni

Eighteen miles further on, northbound up the west coast of the Peloponnisos, we anchored at Methoni, where the enormous ruins of a 13th-century Venetian fort sit on the headland. The fort was built to guard the shipping route, and actually housed an entire community. The towering walls and parapets are still intact, as are the the ancient roads and many structures. Protected by the sea on three sides, the place has an actual moat on the landward side, and its entrance from land is accessed by a magnificent stone bridge of 14 arches.



Methoni has been one of our favorites stops; we ended up spending 2-weeks here. The anchorage was calm even when the wind piped up. Enjoyed watching the antics of boats coming and going. During happy hour we could watch the locals, silhouetted by the setting sun, fishing from the stone jetty while we sipped our wine; the landing of an octopus was high excitement! The small village was pleasant and convenient. Some days we would sail “Loose Change” (our beloved dinghy) around the anchorage just for the fun of it.

We’ll linger a bit longer, waiting for a good weather window before commencing our departure to our last anchorages enroute to SD’s winter home in Messalonghi.   Cheers!
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