It's all Greek to me!

Warren and Mary swimming while Greg and Philip went to explore some old rocks.

Vincent, our skipper, seeing better days.

The pots and pan van man at Sigri

The lads enjoying some lunch

Lunch

Deliberations on what to do when the storm was coming up. Plenty of advice was at hand with Greg being the facilitator

We decided to move to the inner harbour. Note the gangplank and the absence of Mary and Greg to help prepare the boat for rough waters.

The view from Vincent's verandah

The road up to Vincent's house

It hardly seems like only a week since leaving London but what a week it has been. Arriving in Thessonoliki to a much warmer climate than the old dart but that is what we expected and what we had dreamed of. Our first experience of the Romany folk cruising the waterfront didn't sour our enjoyment of the seaside restaurant and our first sortie into Greek food. Next day saw us arrive in Mylinti and a 45 minute taxi ride with our Greek driver Steve who, as it turned out, spent 12 years in Sydney including a degree at UNSW! Not the first time we would meet Greeks who knew where the 'Gong is.

Steve deposited us at Scala Lutera where our host Vincent waited with the yacht, Passe Partout, that was to be home and transport for the next week but not before a delightful lunch in the quayside taverna. Amazing food from a shoebox kitchen and for an embarrassingly low price given some of the meals we have enjoyed. A brief sail to Vincent's home anchorage, an inspection of his olive grove, an introduction to ouzo and return to the yacht for a swim and the night at anchor.

A stop for lunch along the way provides the opportunity for a swim in the blue Agean Sea and to take a slightly closer look at one of the numerous whitewashed churches that cling to the shore and to the cliffs, often where there is absolutely no sign of human habitation, like a tiny island in the middle of nowhere!

Next day has us heading down the coast under both motor and sail only to have the weather turn and for us to gain a new respect for Sydney-Hobart sailors. Poor Warren couldn't resist the desire to give back his breakfast and we all tried various strategies to avoid going the same way! 

On to shelter in a harbour gives us the opportunity to wander through a traditional Greek fishing port, Pomari, and to sit and watch Greek men sitting around watching other Greek men watching other Greek men. It seemed that as this was the home of ouzo the stuff had had some long-term effect and we had to pinch ourselves when a guy comes by on a motorbike pulling a horse along behind, presumably as exercise for the horse, but on narrow cobbled streets with metal shoes? The horse looked a touch frantic! We couldn't believe our eyes when, 30 mins later, he came around again. We just couldn't get the camera out fast enough.

With the weather getting worse even the harbour got a little too uncomfortable so Vincent decides to go into the inner harbour with the local sidewalk sailors thinking this was their opportunity to display their knowledge and some ten or so all offering advice as to how to go about the operation! It does make for a calmer night but the noise of creaking ropes does nothing for sound sleep.

Aside from some moments where we thought that road transport had its merits, we did have some times of total enjoyment, swimming in the crystal clear waters of the Agean, simple meals on the deck in the sunshine, sights we would have not seen any other way, trying to find which 3 Euro wine was the best, trying to find the best way to sleep on a triangular mattress and not bang your head on the same hatchway every time and, wondering why there was no internet access out at sea!  How do you get an inflatable dinghy to row in a straight line?

On the next day under better conditions we actually sailed to the Western extreme of the island and to anchor in the bay at Sigrion. The delight of a journey ashore in the dinghy , food and drink at the local taverna and a giddy trip back to the yacht ends abruptly when we are intercepted by the Coast Guards asking which of us is injured as they had a distress call from the yacht. It turned out that Vincent had fallen while we were away enjoying ourselves and sustained a serious head injury. The Coast Guards took him ashore and to an ambulance they had called, and on to hospital in Mytilini.

Greg and Warren did not feel comfortable on the yacht without the skipper and found a room ashore while Mary and I stuck it out but we all decided that even though Vincent was determined to continue the sailing, even if it meant going straight back, we decided to head for Mytilini independently. Vincent did return with two friends one to sail back with him and the other took us back in his car and as it turned out we saw much more of the spectacular island than we would have from sea and we had a wide-ranging conversation about all things Lesvosian.

We were impressed byVincent's determination but there was no way we would impose additional pressure on someone who was clearly in no state to do anything. His friend Costas took charge of sailing Passe Partout back and as it turned out the weather changed and it would have been an uncomfortable trip for them both especially Vincent who was clearly not well.

We then had the opportunity to have a good look at Mytilini especially the massive mediaeval fortress that dominates the town and from which, on a clear day, Turkey is visible across the straights and a tour of the archeological museum where an incredible array of trinkets were on display spanning 1000 yards or more. Constant traffic through the town and a bustling waterfront provide lots to see although it would be great if the motorcycle muffler salesman came to town and if the pedestrian crossings actually had any meaning! Tomorrow sees us heading back to Thessalonikii where we bid farewell to the two "gents" and head to Istanbul.