Clive's Salty Sea Story PART 2
Having sold my Catalina 30’ in San Diego, I began to experience the strange phenomenon of having a positive balance in my bank account at the end of each month. It was a pleasant experience, as every boat owner can relate to when the ‘hole in the water of which we throw money into, is no longer a responsibility.
It was to be a short lived happiness, as within a few months I began to experience the longing to be back on the water and so began making plans for sailing adventures.
I recalled of some years earlier, where I’d been on a flotilla holiday in the Greek Ionian Islands, where a chance conversation with a skipper of a small sailboat, had relayed to me the advantages of owning a share in a small boat out there. Shared expenses and shared responsibility, usually with five or six weeks use each summer and each time with only one skipper aboard. I decided now might be a good time to make enquiries regarding such a venture and browsing through a yachty mag I came across a small advertisement, the company was called Yacht Fractions, it was too appealing to resist. And so somewhere in the middle of the bleak UK winter when my dreams are only of warm climate sailing and at their peak, I made the call.
It was a pleasant conversation with Chris, he was very knowledgeable, confident and enthusiastic. Whilst I was sure it was all part of his sales pitch I liked his demeanour and I found we had lead quite parallel lives. So I took some inspiration from his recommendations of a share in Star, a Jeanneau Sunlight 30 footer.
It was a new syndicate. Further conversations and details relayed over the next few days had the purchase concluded. It transpired that Star was in Souuki boatyard hauled and on the hard, just a mile or so east of the south entrance to the Corinth Canal.
The plan was to move the boat to be based in Nikiana on the island of Lefkada.
My request to be the skipper to move the boat was granted and I began to make plans for the delivery.
I acquired a copy of Rod Heinkell’s Greek Waters Pilot which was to prove invaluable for the trip. I recalled having a copy on board during the flotilla. It gave details of the protocol for transiting the canal and information of all the ports en route to Nikiana together with many anchorages and brief insights to incidental local history. It has since had many reissues and updates proving to be the Greek Island Cruisers bible.
There was no shortage of volunteers for crew and with my good friend Simon Bull it was decided we would invite Ian Smith a friend who we knew to have some sailing and culinary skills but most importantly a first class, if somewhat juvenile, sense of humour. Ian would be included in many sailing adventures thereafter.
It was late April when we finally boarded the plane at Stanstead airport for the flight to Athens. Chris Hawes had arranged for us to be collected at Athens airport on arrival that evening by Greg, the broker supplying Star. He was to drive us to the boatyard at Sussaki. All went according to plan, though when we arrived it was dark and there was some sarcasm from my crew about the need for the boat to be boarded by climbing ‘up’ a ladder and that it ideally could do with being ‘in’ the water rather than sat on chocks awaiting launch. With an introduction to familiarise us with the boat and assurances we would be launched the following morning, we asked the broker to arrange a taxi to take us to a local taverna.
The next morning we eagerly awaited the launch, it did happen, eventually, according what my crew described as ‘Greek’ time. That said, the staff organising the launch were cordial and highly competent. As Star took float and the strops were being retrieved it was noticed that the depth gauge was not working and a voice with a heavy accent declared ‘You need fuel’. When asked ‘How soon?’ The reply came, ‘Soon’. With the motor started we cast off and headed towards the canal entrance.
That morning while awaiting launch we had searched through the charts on board. We had understood there were many charts being supplied with the boat and whilst there were indeed ‘many charts’ none of them covered the area north of the canal and onward towards Lefkada. With no chandlers close by the boatyard, we had reasoned the Pilot Book gave suffice detail to get us through the canal and onto Kiato.
A few miles into the Gulf of Corinth where we could acquire suitable charts for the onward journey, the depth gauge was a concern but we were again confident we could manage.
Stopping on the canal quayside to register and pay the transit toll, where we remained docked whilst a large vessel passed through heading south. Then the lights changed and a figure waved us forward to begin our transit north. Star, the little 30’ Jeanneau was the only vessel in the canal.
Transiting the Corinth Canal is a remarkable experience, the history of it’s inception goes back to the times of Nero but the completion required many more years to pass. The narrow channel with shear sides three hundred or more feet high at times has your mind racing to imagine the endeavours it took to achieve completion.
My mind also began racing around halfway through the canal with thoughts on fuel and how soon ‘Soon’ really was according to the boatyard worker. The fuel gauge was indeed registering slightly above empty and well below quarter. The unpredictability and reliability of any fuel gauge raised concerns that soon might mean ‘halfway up the canal’ but in the spirit of ‘there’s enough to get us to Blackpool and back’ (a favourite phrase of most motor traders I’ve known) I felt sure there would be sufficient to make it to Kiato.
I was not wrong, we arrived at Kiato a commercial port on the south eastern corner of the Gulf of Corinth and moored alongside the concrete mole astern of a couple of freighters the closest to us being registered in Egypt. Ian and Simon took off into the town, the hour was late and when they returned to report there was neither a chandlers or fuel supply close to the dock. They were not however empty handed having passed a pizzeria and a supermarket they were carrying three large pizzas and a couple of six packs of beer. We were midway through consuming the feast when a knock on the hull of the boat was followed by a friendly voice inviting us to dine aboard the Egyptian registered freighter. We politely declined.
The plan for the next day was hatched on the principle that just north across the Gulf was the town of Galaxhidi which from Rod Heinkell’s Pilot Book sounded to be both beautiful and have all we required for the rest of the journey.
The following morning we cast off at first light and glances at the fuel gauge again had us all convinced we had plenty of hours left on the motor. On leaving the shelter of the harbour a wind of around 12 knots from the north east had us at full sail with the motor shut off.
Star was making way at a pleasant pace though it was apparent we would be required to tack a couple of times to make Galaxhidi.
I was on the helm and it was not long before the wind gathered strength to around 20 knots. There was the start of that familiar chop the waves take on when they’re in their infancy and we were on the point of decision making whether to start and reef sails when there was a strange thud and the boat altered angle of heel simultaneously with a dramatic change of wind noise. Glancing forward we were all shocked to see the forestay had become disconnected at the base of the roller furling drum, the sail was flailing to starboard and the mast took on a most unstable shake. There were shouts of disbelief and I instinctively brought the helm to point Star downwind putting the strain on the back stay and holding the mast securely. Simon let out the main sheet then ran forwards somehow managing to grab hold of the furling drum. Slowly he was able to wind the foresail in by hand as Ian let out the sheets. By this time we were romping on downwind in the opposite direction to where we needed to be. Simon secured the furling drum with a short length of mooring line and took the spinnaker halyard forward securing it to the bow around the anchor roller. Ian and Simon applied as much pressure as they could to the halyard and the mast was held firmly. It was now possible to bring the boat to wind on mainsail alone but the angle was far from the direction we ideally needed to be heading. The motor was started and with stability from the mainsail a direct course to Galaxhidi was achieved. The motor had been running for no more than five minutes when a short hesitation and then a complete failure of power was recognised immediately as running out of fuel. Numerous expletives were voiced aloud followed by a round of laughter and shared statements in a heavily accentuated Greek connotation ‘You need fuel’ then, ‘soon’.
The wind had built to 25 knots and the chop had now put Star on an uncomfortable roll. With no chart of the area I looked at the Pilot Book and whilst it gave excellent detail on the approach to Galaxhidi it did not cover any of the bays to the east and on the north shore of the gulf, the very direction we were best fixed to make for. Decisions had to be made, I could see there would be shelter from the swell once inside one of the north shore bays and I reasoned on being able to find a suitable anchorage where we could reassess. The depth gauge was still not operating so Simon was sent to stand at the bow keeping a lookout for shallow water. We then hung the kedge anchor at the ready and flaked out the scope instructing Ian to throw it overboard should we be required to make an emergency stop. Once in the shadow of the land the sea swell eased and the boat was slowed down by letting out the main sheet. A patch of light blue water indicated a suitable depth for anchoring and as the area was reached I bought the boat into the wind and Simon laid the bow anchor. Star fell back on the wind, the anchor dug in and held as a further twenty or so meters of chain was release to hold us. A yell of relief rang out together with instruction to make a pot of coffee and relax a short while. Simon began to search through all possible storage lockers and was fortunate to find a nut and bolt to perfectly fit the furling drum bracket which it was identified had broken free by losing the clevis pin. Within minutes the drum and forestay were re secured and a plain 20 litre plastic container which was originally believe to hold water proved to contain diesel. I let out a cry of euphoria albeit tinged with embarrassment, why had I not opened the container before we left Sousaki ? Coffee brewed, fuel topped up, system bled and the forestay secured we lifted the anchor and made way for Galaxhidi. Arriving a little behind schedule we threw the kedge off the stern and moored bows to the quay.
Ian leapt ashore and ran across the causeway straight into a bar and ordered three large beers.
Later that evening we ate at a taverna close by and enquired about fuel and the possibility of purchasing a chart for continuation of our trip. The taverna owner arranged for the fuel truck (a small pickup with a tank strapped onto the bed) for the following morning and told us where we could obtain a chart. The evening took on a relaxed air of achievement and a sound nights sleep was had.
The next day with the fuel delivery occupying my time, Ian took off to where we had been told we could get a chart. He returned with a smile of bemused irony and unfolded a chart the size of the boat which covered Spain to Israel and gave very little detail on the route we were on. ‘I felt I had to buy it’, he declared, as the person who had directed us with the fuel had accompanied him and was keen to be seen as helpful.
The Pilot Book was once again scrutinised and course plotted for the next stop Navpaxos.
This trip was during the troubles in the Balkans and we were often flown over by two jets heading north only to be seen on their return south a short time later and looking lighter on their underwing load. It was a sobering thought that whilst we were having an adventure terror and turmoil was being unleashed just north of the mountains.
We motor sailed without problems the entire way from Galaxhidi to Navpaxos. The weather went from light winds and sunny spells to dark grey clouds strong winds from the north and torrential rain. Consequentially Star was carrying a damp and weary Captain and crew as she passed through into the majestic sea walled harbour of Navpaxos. We moored bows to with a fairly short kedge scope avoiding local fishing boats. At this point we had very few dry clothes and the rain had set in for what seemed like the rest of the day. We shuffled along the harbour causeway and a lady beckoned us to a taverna entrance. The taverna was otherwise empty and as she showed us to a seat. A gentleman presumably her husband, wheeled over a free standing gas heater which was turned on full. Our jackets, sweaters and saloppettes? Were hung over chair backs to catch the heat. It was not long before everything warmed up, clothes began to steam and a damp air fragrance of somewhere between bilge and body odour wafted throughout. As we placed our orders for drinks and food a group of youthful trendy smartly dress locals entered and chose to sit as far away from us as they could. Shortly after more folks of similar age and classy attire entered and before long it was apparent we were three seafaring vagrants in ‘the happening’ place to be on Navpaxos harbour.
It was a glorious sunrise to a clear sky, the sea was flat calm and with no charts but with absolute faith in (and gratitude for) Rod Heinkell’s Greek Island Pilot Book. We cast off and headed west to cross from the Gulf of Corinth into the Gulf of Patras negotiating our way between the plethora of ferry boats making the short passage from the mainland to the North East of the Peloponnese. It would be some years later before the Rion Bridge construction, timed for Greece’s hosting of the Olympics, would greatly reduce the number of ferries, though a few still remain in operation.
Immediately Star transited the fine line between the two gulfs the wind picked up from astern. With the mainsail stowed neatly the Genoa was unfurled and the motor switched off. Simon took the helm for the next three hours for an exhilarating downwind sail on a flat sea.
A sailboat was seen in the distance beating into the wind on a reciprocal course to Star as a British voice was heard on channel 16 of the VHF radio hailing Patras Radio. With no response coming from Patras I hailed the skipper who immediately replied advising he could see us on his port quarter. It was pleasant to make contact with another British yacht but when the skipper continued ‘Yes you’re just north of the south cardinal marker’, an air of urgency swept through our little boat. Again, following numerous expletives the Pilot Book was flicked through to the page giving best detail on the area. No depths or wrecks could be identified as cause for concern but whilst now I could refer to it as ‘prudence’ reality was we were somewhere between ‘concern and panic’. Simon swept the helm across and we made way to pass south of the south cardinal mark. Later when we finally got the correct charts, closer scrutiny showed we were perfectly safe and the marker served to warn commercial shipping of shallower water to the north with sufficient depth of no danger to a small sailboat.
Skirting south of the sand bars on the mainland coast and approaching the passage between Nisos Oxia the water is beautifully blue which told us the depth was about to change considerably. Simon was posted lookout on the bow again but the Pilot Book was true to detail in there were no hazards and sufficient depth for Star to transit.
On turning to the north by Nisos Oxia the wind died within a matter of a few meters as if by command. This was the very area Byron wrote of a truly ferocious storm, yet here we were totally becalmed. I have often wondered how, if he ever did, Byron might have described a regular day sailing off the UK North East Coast ?
With the motor started and the Genoa furled two hours saw Star cross a mirror flat sea to Kioni on the East of Ithaca. We moored bows to, the only sailboat in the harbour and with all the tavernas closed supplies were bought at the village store and dinner cooked aboard.
The sun rose on the next day and began to warm the air, it was the first real feeling that the summer season was approaching. We motored north checking out several bays along the East Ithaca coast and in the afternoon a breeze set in from the NW. Both sails were shaken out and the motor cut for an exhilarating sail across to Sivota on the south east of Lefkada Island. Nikiana, our final destination for the delivery, was within reach the same day but with time to spare we sailed Star slowly into the hurricane hole bay of Sivota and laid the kedge under sail spilling the wind to gently go bows to the town quay. The only other sailboat in the bay was moored a few meters from us, another delivery crew making their way South. With only one taverna open Ian decided it was his turn to order food, a short discussion had us suggesting we shared a sampler selection from the menu, then Ian took off to the taverna. He returned a short time later to announce the food was ordered and table scheduled for 7pm.
Arriving at the taverna on time three beers were soon at the table shortly followed by three portions of Humus, three Greek Salads, three Tatziki, and three Taramasalata.
It was immediately apparent Ian’s instructions had been misunderstood. ‘I said there was three of us wanting to share’ he insisted. When three lobsters, three pork chops and three lamb Kleftaco arrived we realised we’d need a large doggie bag and have sufficient food for breakfast, lunch and dinner the following two days.
Nikiana was a short motor out of Sivota and north through the Meganisi channel. There we were greeted by an Englishman named Keith who had been commissioned to take care of Star for the coming summer season. The boat was moored securely and we started packing for the return journey.
Our return flights from Athens to Stanstead were booked for the afternoon of the following day. I had booked tickets with Olympic Airlines in London for a connecting flight in the morning from Preveza airport to Athens in time to make the connection. A chance conversation with Keith when asking for a taxi for the morning to Preveza airport raised a question of there being any commercial flights so early in the year. Preveza Airport at that time was a small primarily Military Base with very limited commercial traffic. Some years earlier and the first time I had flown in there passengers had to retrieve their own luggage from a cart outside what could best be described as a Nissan Hut.
Several frantic phone calls concluded the tickets we had been issued from Olympic Airlines in London was for a flight that did not exist. A short time later a taxi had been arrange to collect us early in the morning for the 6 hour drive to Athens airport.
The Olympic Airlines enquires desk in Athens Airport was attended by an extremely attractive very well endowed young lady wearing a low cut top. I remain in no doubt that she was strategically placed in the job to make complaining doubly difficult.
When I explained our situation of having tickets for a flight that did not exist her reply was a matter of fact tone in a heavily broken Greek accent ‘Is not a problem you can use ticket anytime’. Whilst I appreciated she was meaning to say they were open tickets I could not resist asking, ‘Ok but I’d like to use them today?’. Her reply was again a matter of fact tone, ‘Is no fly today but you can use anytime’. We caught the flight to Stanstead and were home to our planned schedule.
I wrote to Olympic Airlines and they efficiently replied apologising and refunding both the cost of the tickets and the taxi fare to Athens airport.
Fifteen years later Simon and I saw Star moored in one of the Ionian Islands beauty spots. She looked a little older and still had the nut and bolt securing the furling drum and forestay the repair Simon had so successfully made good on our trip.
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