As you know, we’d got as far as Riposto on the east coast of Sicily, where we sat out the storms in the Ionian. We’d pinged a shackle on the mainsail on the way down, and headed out to find another one first thing on Monday morning, during a kind gap in the rain. Unfortunately, although shackles are generally two a penny, this one is a proprietary piece of kit and we were unable to find a replacement. To add insult to injury, the heavens opened again…
Riposto sits at the foot of Mount Etna, and the volcano was going through a particularly active period. We’d already picked up some black ash on the boat on the way down, but once in the marina, the wind direction meant we didn’t really get any more. However, the streets were covered in it. But it’s an interesting texture. We expected the rain to turn the ash into a horrible muddy sludge, but no – the ash itself had the structure of tiny ball bearings which kept their shape and structure even when covered by a few centimetres of rain. Riposto is on a slight incline, and all of the water seems to pour down into the marina area, and within minutes our walk across a damp car park had turned into a paddle across a lake. The rain can turn the ash into a concrete-like structure which can block drains and gutters, and undoubtedly contributed to the floods in Catania recently.
We legged it through the rain to the local boatyard to see if they could help fix our shackle (they weren’t interested), but the wonderful company ZSpars in the UK got two news ones overnight to Gatwick, and our friend Tony was able to bring them out when he joined us on the Wednesday.
But back to the Monday night. What had seemed like a lovely, buzzing little town on Saturday night had turned into a lovely, quiet little town on the Monday night. Nowhere seemed open, and we had cabin fever from the constant rain, and needed to get out. We realised that the town itself was quite a distance away, and we were just in the harbour area. We walked for ages and finally came across a bakery that had a coffee shop and a bar, so we spent a very pleasant hour in there, with the owners bringing us free biscuits baked especially for Halloween called “Dead men’s bones” as they had icing on them like a human bone.
Tony arrived on the Wednesday, and the guys started looking for a weather window to head over to Greece. However, the storm over the Ionian was still raging away. It was supposed to move southwards but kept popping back up like a yoyo – every time we looked it had changed. At first, they thought they might be able to go on the Saturday, but then decided Sunday might be a better bet. And indeed, it was beginning to look like a more stable period of weather. In the end it turned out that Monday was the time to leave the safety of the port.
And so to the English Skipper’s Woman… I had agreed with Richard that I was not going to stay on board for the 48-hour passage across to Preveza. We had done a two-night passage from Spain to Sardinia in lovely conditions, and it was fine. Our 30-hour passage from Sardinia to Sicily was okay, but the nights are much longer, and the weather much more uncertain. Tony is a hugely experienced sailor, and he and Richard would be fine in conditions that I would not want to sail in by choice. At this point, I kissed Richard au revoir (should that be ciao?), and headed ashore.
Preveza airport, on the Ionian mainland, has a military airport that can be used for commercial flights between the end of March and the end of October. Once you get to November, there is one flight a week to Athens via Corfu. To give myself a couple of days’ contingency, I flew to Athens on Friday 29 October, and transferred to Preveza on the Saturday. I know the town quite well from previous land-based holidays and was happy to be there. I spent a pleasant Sunday, doing lots of walking and popped in to our favourite beach bar for a couple of espressos.
Missy Bear and crew departed Riposto the next morning, and were in touch until the evening as they got a good signal from the toe of Italy. I was also able to see them on Vesselfinder, although guessed that they would soon be out of range for that. Richard estimated an arrival Wednesday morning while it was still dark. The plan was they would head up the narrow channel that has been dredged for access into Preveza, anchor at the top, and wait for daylight to come over to the town quay, where I would take their lines. At some point, we would then move into the town marina, “Preveza Marina” for a few days before heading over to Cleopatra marina where the boat would be hauled out of the water. Cleopatra does not offer any berths in the water in the winter, the currents and wind are too dangerous. All boats are hauled out onto land. It is a well-known winter spot for yachts.
Tuesday morning, I snapped back into my Passepartout role. Non-EU yachts arriving in Greece must have a transit log, which is basically a passport to allow your boat to stay in Greek waters. The log is valid for up to three years, and once you leave Greece you hand it in.
As you can imagine, the process is not straightforward for first timers; the form is not easy to fill out, and requires visits to the Port Police and Customs department. My first task was to find an agent who would help us. I found an office at the far end of town who could do it. She is called Malinda. Tick.
My next job was to make sure we could get diesel for the boat. We needed to have a full tank of fuel overwinter so that there is no opportunity for evaporation in the fuel tank allowing bacteria to form, which is bad for your boat engine. I knew that one of the laundries by the town also delivered fuel to the town quay so I headed for the shop. Unfortunately, Victor, the fuel man was in hospital and would not be out until the end of the week.
I walked up to Preveza marina – hurrah, I could see a fuel dock. I went to the office to ask about a berth, and mentioned fuel. Nope, they had a major internet outage, which meant that they could not operate the fuel dock. Cleopatra does not do fuel. At this stage, it looked like we would have to take the boat to Lefkas, some five nautical miles away. I rang Lefkas and they confirmed their fuel pontoon was open for only two hours every morning. Sigh. But, our new friend Malinda came to the rescue. She knew someone who could deliver to the town quay. All we had to do was moor the boat in a certain location so he could get his little tanker on the quay. We agreed I would confirm it once the boys arrived. Tick.
And so, my day passed. I had a few more chores to do. Every so often, a yacht would come up the channel, and head either to the lagoon behind the town, town quay itself, or into Preveza Marina. I would stand and gaze wistfully at it, secretly hoping it would be Missy Bear but knowing that was impossible. By the time darkness fell, I was able to think, “by morning, they’ll be here”.
I had sent Richard a short series of WhatsApps and texts, explaining the fuel situation so they did not need to make a detour to Lefkas. I woke at 4am – I half expected to have had a reply from Richard as they should have been able to get a signal a few hours away from Preveza from one of the Ionian islands, if not Lefkas itself. Nothing. There was one little grey tick on the WhatsApp, indicating it had been sent. It needed to show two grey ticks to indicate it had been delivered to the phone. Then I would know they were in range. The electronic equivalent of standing on the quay, looking down the channel to see the boat.
But now I was awake. I read a bit, and kept checking my phone. I realised this was the digital-age equivalent of the French lieutenant’s woman staring out to sea in Lyme Regis. Then, at 7am, the second grey tick miraculously appeared. Missy Bear was in range of a mobile phone mast. A minute later, up popped a message from Richard - “Good morning”. They were two hours away from the channel. Hurrah.
Wrapping my cloak around me (sorry, getting carried away there), I ran from my hotel to the town quay to check the conditions. It was fine to moor up, but the area we needed to park in was full of fishing boats and fishermen. I returned at 9am, armed with a note in Greek from the hotel, apologising an explaining we needed to park in the area. One fishing boat was charming, said they were going in ten minutes and it was a good spot to moor. And as Missy Bear’s mast appeared in the distance, they packed their nets away and left the quay. Welcome to Preveza, Missy Bear.
Tony stayed on for a couple of days. We were sorry to see him go, and he’d also helped get a lot of the prep above decks done with Richard. We have worked hard since then. Every item of bedding and towels has been washed dried and stowed in vacuum bags. Our clothes have similarly been washed, dried and stored. Below decks, Missy Bear has been cleaned in every nook and cranny. Decks have been scrubbed, teak wood has been oiled, sails taken down, washed and bagged up for next year. I could go on.
Then on Tuesday morning, we took her across to Cleopatra Marina, where a boat crane hoisted her out of the water, and a tractor with a special trailer drove her around to her winter home on dry land. We have agreed the winter maintenance schedule with the boatyard. Missy Bear will snooze happily in her hibernation until we return in the spring.
