August 2007
Day 1 – Athens
The place where Socrates and Cicero helped shape civilization, Athens is a vigorous city that straddles the new and the old in a chaotic way. There is a pervasive feeling of a developing world city in this Western European capital. Squatty buildings are laid out around disorderly streets and span over 400 kilometers around a looming and tourist-serving Acropolis. Heat, dust and diesel permeate the air while Middle Eastern immigrants sell their wares amidst the cacophony of blaring horns. Athens may not fit with the postcard image, but it is a city that commands respect. Unlike Rome or Paris, Athens seems harsher, demands more concentration and requires more determination to fully explore and understand.
In late August, gusty hot winds blew smoke from nearby fires as we arrived one by one to Athens and boarded the chartered yacht that was to carry us on our sailing adventure. 40 feet doesn’t seem that big! Cubby holes that are to sleep four can realistically only sleep two, especially when the assigned bedmates have no desire to spoon. Yet, everything is adorable, manageable and adventurous when you are filled with excitement. Even the idea of limited running water and a three step procedure to using the toilet seemed intriguing at worst.
Six friends of varying degrees sat on the deck drinking Heineken in the hazy heat of the night and danced the ‘getting to know you’ dance; each wondering who was going to fare well and perhaps who was going to, intentionally, go overboard. It was a mini United Nations of a Crew with representation from China, Honduras, India, New Zealand and Vietnam all by way of America or the UK. Late into the night, two decided to sleep on deck under the noisy sky. Before falling into restless slumber, one wondered where the shirtless Greek men who were to bring her fruity drinks were.
Day 2 – Athens to Aegina
Hello Sailors, meet your new best friend, the Yellow Dinghy!
With winds steady, we set sail into the azure Saronic Gulf. The sun was blurred by an opaque haze. We left the fires of Athens and set forth to our first port. Lazily we rocked along taking in the sights and getting some basic training, from our newly licensed Skipper, on how to sail. The six of us began to settle into roles that we would eventually become experts in; alongside our Skipper, the Honduran would become the specialist on the sails, the tiny quiet one would become Buoy Girl ensuring that our yacht never touched another; there was the natural Co-Skipper, the Big Kiwi who would set the record for fastest speed and the Anchor Woman.
This was the day we were waiting for and anticipation for the unknown was palpable. As we left Athens behind us we were in the bowl of the Gulf with other islands surrounding us. What seemed near with our eyes, was quite far when relying on a gentle wind to sail us there. With the heat beginning to scorch, the Skipper found a sheltered spot for a swim. The water was warm but not so inviting when it was being guarded by the brown and gold jellyfish. Nevertheless everyone mustered up the courage, or the desperate need to cool off, and took a dip.
Eventually we stumbled upon a little coastal village on Aegina where we had decided to spend the night. Aegina is in the middle of the Saronic Gulf, a picturesque island that is an ideal starting point for meandering through this side of the Greek Isles. We bypassed the main port of Aegina, choosing a little hamlet on the quiet side of this 83 kilometer island. Watching the sunset and sunrise on this part of the island was like watching scenes from a movie. There are multi-colored houses stacked upon one another, connected by a labyrinth of alleyways not visible from the shore. Historically, Aegina spent long periods of time trying to fight with and one up ancient Athens, today it is mainly known for pistachio nuts.
Reaching the little harbor crammed with large yachts, mid-size sailboats and small fishing boats, none of us could have been prepared for what came next – our first attempt to moor. This is when our naïve Sailors learned that there are multiple ways to moor, each with plenty of procedures and steps. Little did we know that by the end of our one-week adventure, we will have tried the all!
For us, the first step in mooring was ‘where’, which is relative when you have six opinions. (Mind you ‘where’ is also relative based on trial – many times our first ‘where’ was not actually our final ‘where’.) Once we determined the ‘where’, then we were off to the ‘how’. Again, ‘how’ is relative when you have several opinions. But our fearless Skipper and his opinionated Crew were off and running to solve the ‘how’. After numerous attempts and several hours, comes the ‘what?’ ‘really?’ ‘okay.’ And then another half an hour after that the ‘why?’ ‘why?’ ‘why?’ Eventually we would wind up secure.
On this, our first mooring attempt, after completing some multivariate testing and statistical modeling, we decided on our location and approach. It was at this point that we saw the beginnings of a not so beautiful relationship between the Big Kiwi and the Yellow Dinghy. Both temperamental, neither was allowing the other to be in charge. For the Yellow Dingy, she neither preferred to be controlled with the motor or the oars but simply preferred to drift with the current. But alas, after a few circles, a few spins, and a rope, the Big Kiwi bought Dinghy to heel. 2 and half hours later using an anchor, a stern line, and several ropes, we were secured for the night; the Skipper confidently proclaiming, “And now we do nothing!”
After a mouthwatering meal of grilled red snapper fresh from the sea, tzatziki and Mythos, we slept the sleep of babies rocked in a gentle cradle.
Day 3 – Aegina to Poros
Tack and Jibe, Tack and Jibe, Tack and Jibe!
This was the day the amateur hodgepodge of a Sailors became a team. Together, in pairs, under the careful guidance of our Skipper, we practiced multiple tacking and jibing maneuvers. We learned sailing basics of going into the wind, tightening up the mainsheet (which is a rope and not a sheet at all) which tightens up the mainsail, etc. We learned that tacking is safer than jibing and that we never (as an inexperienced Sailors) wanted to accidentally do a crash jibe. We were now able to understand directional in longitude and latitude, gage wind speed, keep track of depth and man the helm. We also learned watch so that whenever the Skipper said, ‘see that boat on the left? Is it going to pass in front of us or behind us?’ we could answer confidently.
After a few swims and some close calls with the guardian jellyfish, we arrived in Poros. A beautiful island with lots of Tavernas and cafes, it was the quintessential Greek Island port. Inhabited since the Bronze Age, Poros was the liveliest of all of the islands we visited. There was an earthy hustle-bustle that meandered around a big chunk of the shore. It is a popular destination for chartered sail boats and, being close to the mainland, day-trippers. As you sail into the harbor, you can see the neoclassical architecture dotted along the hillsides.
On this day, our mooring was easier than the previous day. On Poros, we could go stern in and be attached to land. And for the Big Kiwi, it was welcome news that he would be able to avoid contact with the Yellow Dinghy. Our time to moor was less than 2 hours, because going in stern in still proved to be complex as it was different from the day before. It took us two separate anchor drops to get into place and we became a source of entertainment for the various chartered boats around us and unintentionally decided to complicate the process so as to provide even more amusement.
Once moored, we were excited to find water to fill up our constantly empty water tank and shower before we went out for the evening to explore the town and sample in some street side Gyros. However, the Big Kiwi and the Yellow Dinghy had a date with destiny and it involved a little red ball. The helpless ball was ‘accidentally’ tossed overboard by the Big Kiwi and set adrift. The current was a little faster than expected and within minutes the red ball was out of reach. So unwillingly, the Big Kiwi detached the Yellow Dinghy from the bow of the boat and reluctantly set off after the red ball. At first the Yellow Dinghy refused to cooperate to with this unexpected manhandling but eventually the Big Kiwi and the Yellow Dinghy came together as one to save the little red ball. Having overcome a stressful incident, the two became a little closer. However, all that would change at our next port.
Day 4 – Poros to Hydra
Wind, Sail and A few Screams!
Another beautiful day in the Greek Isles and with the winds blowing fast we actually SAILED! Some of us also let out a few screams at the first steep tilt of the boat but eventually got our sea legs once we heard the magic words, “the boat is designed not to tip over.”
We also got some good swims in when the jellyfish were otherwise occupied. However, our main goal for the day was to reach Hydra early enough to be able to explore the island. We managed the first part by reaching Hydra in the early afternoon, however, all of us forgot about our average time to moor. So instead of Hydra, we spent about 3 hours exploring stern lines, stability, depth, the anchor and of course the Yellow Dinghy
By this time, the Big Kiwi and the Yellow Dinghy were at a cross purpose. Without the cause of the drifting red little ball behind them, neither was keen on spending any time with the other. Our mooring process went something like this: rope, rope, anchor up, anchor down (foreshadowing), depth, depth, depth, row… “Thank God for the water taxi”. Unable to find a spot in the main harbor, we went to a small sheltered harbor 3 kilometers away. We were sort of stern in and attached to a rocky shoreline with two stern lines and held steady by our anchor, which was becoming a bit temperamental as we tended to drop it and pull it in an average of two to three times every time we moored.
Of all of the islands we visited, Hydra has one of the most stunning approaches. As you come close, the crescent shaped port nestled into the hills pops out in an organized riot. The houses are so close together that it is nearly impossible to find the small alleyways that allow for access. The island primarily caters to tourists and wealthy Athenians who own getaway homes. We explored the heart of Hydra under a fiery sunset and stumbled upon a small Taverna away from the tourist-heavy harbor for our evening meal of Greek sampler: moussaka, grapeleaves, calamari, and Mythos. Of course we had the tzatziki, which would become the standard starter and the measure of the quality of any Taverna. We learned that if the tzatziki was bad, the food was generally bad and vice versa.
Our bellies full, we boarded the water taxi back to a lonely, bobbing Attica. As we drifted off to sleep to the sounds of small waves tapping against our boat we didn’t realize that our content Sailors was about to face some serious challenges.
Day 5 – Hydra to Spetses
One, two, three, PULL!
When sailing through the islands in this way, the days tend to become repetitive in a good way. It was once again stunningly beautiful as we set sail. We saw the brightest sky we had seen to date. Looking out we saw the shimmering sapphire sea intersect with the powder blue sky in a crisp line at the horizon. The winds were calm as we headed into another idyllic day of swimming, eating, sailing and of course, mooring.
Our first major challenge came when at a lovely sheltered spot, we dropped anchor, and in the process of making an adjustment, we lost power on the UP button. “No worries,” said our optimistic Skipper, “we’ll just pull it up by hand.” Reasonable members of the Sailors rolled their eyes. It was at this point that we realized that our Skipper had not yet grasped how complex and time consuming our mooring procedures were and the key role that our anchor played in securing our yacht in the right spot at the right angle. But pull it up by hand we did and left our beautiful swimming spot towards the island of Spetses.
Spetses is not a typical tourist serving island. It is small and mainly inhabited by old seafaring fishermen who go out twice a day to bring in their catch in small fishing boats. There aren’t many cars on Spetses, actually we saw none, and most locals get around by scooters, water taxis and horse and buggy. In Spetses we learned the difference between a Café (which mainly servers drinks and small appetizers) and Tavernas (full blown multiple course offering restaurants).
By far our most ambitious mooring of the week was in Spetses. The first spot we found was a challenge but seemed so convenient at the time. Amidst the large yachts and the small water taxis, we dropped the anchor with the malfunctioning UP button, and casually backed into the spot. During this first mooring in a very tight spot, our Buoy Girl saw a lot of action in trying to avoid the boats on both sides at the same time; grasping the rope of the dangling buoy in both hands, she side-shuffled from bow to stern to keep our yacht from touching the helpless boats on either side. Slowly and steadily we closed the space between the stern and the wall and tied ourselves down. Just when we were feeling a sense of achievement at finding such a good spot and getting into it within a reasonable time, a local on a scooter pulled up to inform us that we’ve moored in the equivalent of a bus stop for boats!
This is when the Honduran and the Anchor Woman had to take the anchor by the hand, literally and the Big Kiwi resigned himself to, once again, becoming intimate with the Yellow Dinghy.
On we went in search of another spot and the Sailors was quiet. We were hot, tired and cranky because we knew what was in store and none of us were looking forward to a second mooring on the same day.
Finally, we saw another spot amidst the little fishing boats and withstanding the wrath of the local fishermen off we went. The Big Kiwi set off in the Yellow Dinghy to bring the stern line to the wall and the Anchor Woman reluctantly dropped anchor. Gingerly backing in and out, our Skipper began making K-turns, X-turns, and W-turns with the yacht. The Buoy Girl went into action. And then these famous words: “Guys, I think we dropped the anchor in the wrong spot.” The Anchor woman, turning away from the skipper mumbled, “I think we dropped the boat in the wrong spot.”
Once again the Anchor Team went into action. Hand over hand they began to pull 40 meters of chain out of the murky water, resting every ten meters for a breath and curse word or two using their inside voice. The Skipper again repositioned the boat and the anchor was dropped in yet another spot.
Meanwhile, the Big Kiwi, stroking the Yellow Dinghy with his foot with while puffing on a cigarette, sat back on the wall to enjoy the show.
Skipper: (pulling the boat backwards) can you drop two meters of anchor?
Co-Skipper: 2 meters of anchor in guys
Anchor Team: Crap
Skipper: (pulling the boat forwards) can you pull out two meters of anchor?
Co- Skipper: 2 meters of anchor out guys
Anchor Team: Shit
Skipper: (pulling the boat backwards) can you drop two meters of anchor?
Co- Skipper: 2 meters of anchor in guys
Anchor Team: (noticing the pattern) Fuck
Skipper: (readjusting the boat) I need you to pull up two meters.
Co-Skipper: Pull up two meters
Anchor Team: NO!
Co-Skipper: 2 more meters up
Anchor Team: Want to come over and try?
With determined ferocity our Co-Skipper pulled on the gloves and grasped the chain. One, two, three, pull. Nothing. Not even an inch of movement of the chain.
Co-Skipper: We have to move the boat because we can’t move the anchor.
And the evening went downhill from there. Our time to moor? Actually, I think we’re still at it. In other circumstances, Spetses may be a lovely island, however, the tired Sailors, were ready for tomorrow.
Day 6 – Spetses to Poros
It’s not smoke, its steam!
Another sweltering morning and the Sailors were ready to leave Spetses behind. The sky was picture perfect and the jellyfish were in hiding. Where today would lead us none of us could have predicted.
The Sailors were spread out throughout the top of the yacht, some napping on the seats near the helm, others reading while sitting under the mast and one lying on the Yellow Dinghy listening to Yo Yo Ma while watching the passing islands in slow motion. An hour or so later, there was some movement back and forth near the entrance into the cabin with the men talking in whispers. The tension was mounting amongst the men and began to seep to the rest of the Crew. Eventually everyone became aware that there was smoke coming out of the engine. “It’s not so much smoke but more like steam,” one of the men proclaimed in an effort to keep the remainder of the Crew from panicking.
The Skipper found a nearby sheltered spot to drop anchor and investigate. This is when the men became manly men. With their sleeves rolled up, they opened up the engine and began to investigate. Their main objective – make sure where there is smoke, there is no fire. Down they went in triplicate, manual in hand, and discovered the frayed belt that was causing the smoke. Luckily there was a spare one on board (apparently it is not unusual for this to occur) and the men quickly replaced the belt. Crisis averted and none of us faced the possibility of swimming with the jellyfish until rescue.
With a sense of elation and their chests puffed out in accomplishment, we were once again off. This triumph gave us a new confidence and in Poros we moored in less than 20 minutes and the Big Kiwi and the Yellow Dinghy managed to keep their distance this night.
That night, in Poros, the women were impressed, the Yellow Dinghy spent the night on the boat and the Skipper earned his stripes.
Day 7 – Poros to Athens
The temperamental anchor gets her revenge!
Leaving Poros we headed into our final day at sea. The team was tired, tanned and a little sad to see the adventure come to a close. It was a lazy day. While we left the banks of Poros, some Sailors were still asleep. We found our favorite swimming spot and had a bacon free breakfast (although we did manage to keep our ‘bacon every day’ streak alive by having it for dinner that night). We dipped in for one last swim in the Saronic before casually heading off to Athens. All that remained was one last lift of the anchor by the Anchor Woman.
With the Skipper watching her back, she arrogantly pushed the UP power button. “I own this anchor,” she bragged. But the anchor would not be owned. Up it came but sat a little crooked on its holder so as to make the Anchor Woman have to reach down and adjust it manually. As she casually reached down to move it, the anchor decided to bite and trapped her fingers against the metal edge with its 50 kilos. With a painful and blood curdling scream, the Anchor Woman asked for help. The Skipper jumped in to help but the anchor would not let up, trapping the fingers tighter. He called out for reinforcements as the battle between the hand and the anchor waged on to a soundtrack of screaming.
Finally, with a squeeze, the anchor decided to let up a bit. Adrenaline took over and with a roar worthy of the Incredible Hulk, the Anchor Woman pulled out her still (thankfully) attached fingers. One last look of mutual respect was exchanged between the two. Blood squirting, the rest of the Sailors went into action; fresh water to clean the blood, cotton to apply the pressure. The Buoy Girl and the Co-Skipper went into mama mode and begin to sterilize and bandage up the injury in a caring manner while Anchor Woman let out a few choice curse words and a tear or two.
One more emergency mooring for ice was ordered by the Skipper after which we were once again off to Athens. The mood on the return was somber but the Sailors did their best to keep up the conversation and add levity as a distraction. A night mooring into Pier 8 and we were safely in. Shortest mooring time ever!
Thank you Attica for a safe journey, an amazing experience and a lifetime of memories; in the end, 6 friends of varying degrees became 6 good friends.
P.S. The Big Kiwi and the Yellow Dinghy lived happily ever after…
