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Nikos Karanikolas
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Our first week in Greece was memorable on two counts. Firstly, we were accosted by a sudden Force 6 wind as we rounded the headland of Othoni Island, north of Corfu, following a tiring but relatively calm 27 hour passage from Italy.
The strength of the wind made our destined anchorage off Othoni untenable so we reefed the mainsail and continued for another hour to a more sheltered anchorage off the island of Erikoussa, lying opposite Albania.
Our second welcome was just as unexpected but much more favourable. Six days after entering Greek waters we headed to the pretty Corfu Yacht Club marina, nestled below the town’s old fort. A fleet of charter yachts were arriving later that day and we were turned away due to lack of space.Despondent, we headed back out into the bay and were half way across when the club secretary Amelie caught us up in a fast RIB and invited us to return to take part in the inaugural Corfu Classic Yacht Race in our 61-year-old yacht Leonie.
Along with the chance to compete in the regatta we were also tempted with the offer of a free mooring for five days, free use of the club facilities, crew cocktail parties, dinner in a hill-top vineyard and gifts including a bottle of whisky from the event sponsors Chivas Regal. How could we refuse?
The event lived up to all its promises and the icing on the cake was being awarded a cup after winning second place in our class. Not bad for our first time racing in Leonie.
The warm welcome we received from the club and race organisers, the camaraderie among the competitors and the sheer beauty of the Greek Ionian islands made the effort of sailing around Italy to get here all worthwhile.
With its huge bays and gulfs and limited anchorages, traversing the Italian coast was a long hard slog at times. We endured many 8 to 14 hour days sailing or motoring from marina to marina in a bid to reach Greece without delay.
We left our expensive £1,000 mooring in Capri, where we were forced to spend three weeks due to a complete engine failure, a year to the day from when we set off on our Mediterranean odyssey from our home port of Dartmouth. The occasion was marked by a rainbow halo in the clouds above us as we sailed away from the prosperous isle, caused by raindrops or ice crystals as Google later informed me but which at the time felt like another good omen.
Our first night back on the high seas was spent moored alongside a crane dredger in San Marco di Castellabat, a far cry from the luxurious superyachts we were used to neighbouring in Capri.
We enjoyed another free berth the next night at anchor in the sheltered, peaceful bay at Palinuro. Our luck ran out the following night when a big swell made for an uncomfortable anchorage at Cetraro. Our French neighbours obviously shared an equally maddening night as the exasperated skipper, just as we left at dawn, dashed out stark naked bar a short t-shirt to angrily adjust something on his boom that must have been making an infuriating noise for hours as the sea surged endlessly against his yacht.
After little sleep, it was hard to endure an 11 hour voyage to the next available port especially when we found ourselves sailing in a challenging Force 5 for a couple of hours before arriving at Marina Stella del Sud at Vibo Valentia. In stormy weather conditions, we are quite close to the raging seas in Leonie’s cockpit as it is quite shallow and low to the water.
Stella del Sud was a lovely marina with great showers and friendly staff and we stayed for two nights.
On our way to the huge container port of Gioia Tauro, we passed a huge slick of fish scales floating on the sea surface. Away from the main port we moored bows to a pontoon run by an eccentric old man whose idea of security was to ‘lock’ the gate with a thin piece of string (having lost the key).
The old fishing port of Scilla was a revelation. Fishermen’s cottages nudged the water’s edge with their little blue boats tied up alongside on slipways. Swinging in the hammock chair Carl had rigged up above the forward hatch as we approached the small harbour, I had my first glimpse of the strange looking local swordfish boats. Part of an ancient tradition, the boats are specifically designed to hunt swordfish and consist of a 30-metre high mast with a cage at the top where the captain spots his prey and pilots the boat. Extending 45 metres out from the front of the boat is the passarella where the harpooner takes position in a bid to catch the swordfish unawares.
As we climbed the winding streets to the castle above the harbour, we watched the two swordfish boats we had seen earlier return to the port, passing alarmingly close to Leonie as they backed into their berths.
Scilla is the last refuge before the Strait of Messina, the narrow passage which separates the Italian Peninsula from Sicily and joins the Tyrrhenian Sea in the North with the Ionian Sea in the South. It has a reputation for whirlpools and strong currents but it was as meek as a lamb the day we passed through it. What we thought were dolphins turned out to be leaping tuna as we got closer to them.
Engine problems followed us to Rocella Ionica, where we discovered the engineer we had paid in Capri to fit our new engine had failed to align it properly, causing excessive vibration to the flexible coupling, which now needed replacing. We managed to order a new one from a Beta agent in Milan.
In Le Castella we met young French couple Jeremie and Isabelle who have taken a year’s sabbatical to cruise the Med. We decided to tackle the 134 nautical miles to Greece in company and travelled to Erikoussa within sight of each other all the way.
By the time we reached the Greek island 28 hours later we were more than 2,000 nautical miles away from home. The endless days of passage-making were over, a summer of idyllic anchorages and short hops lay ahead. Our first sublime anchorage was in Kouloura Bay, Corfu where we made a pretty picture at anchor next to the historic Corfu-based Gypsy Moth III, in which Sir Francis Chichester won the first solo transatlantic race in 1960.
Little did we know we would also be racing alongside Gypsy Moth III and 15 other historic vessels in the Corfu Classic Yacht Race a few days later. What better way to celebrate our arrival in the beautiful Greek Ionian Sea.
First published By the Dart October 2014