or 'Third time lucky'
Thanks to the landslide which has closed the Corinth Canal, we have to round the three fingers at the bottom of the Peloponnese, and it’s taken us three different attempts.
Our first got us as far as Koroni, which is at the end of the first, westernmost finger. We anchored, already knowing we weren’t going to try to get further east as the forecast was blowing up again. Our friends Judith and Al on ‘Money Penny’ had attempted to get to the island of Elafonisos - just off the end of the third, eastern finger - but the windy weather made them abort, turn around and head to port at Yithion.
Missy Bear, therefore, headed up to Kalamata (the apex between fingers one and two) and waited for four days. We planned to leave early on the Tuesday morning to head the 50-ish nautical miles around the bottom of the second finger. Our overheating battery problem forced us to stay longer, and we missed the good weather-window. We checked the Windy app several times a day, and could see a more stable system ahead. This would be our third attempt.
Rather than sail such a long leg, and with the weather in our favour, we left on the Sunday to sail half-way and to a large bay called Port Limeni. We had driven past it on one of our hired-car outings, and had seen a solitary yacht anchored there. It had looked rather bleak under the clouds, but it would only be for the one night. We arrived in gusting winds, that funnelled out of the bay, in tandem with two other yachts. They disappeared deeper into the bay, but we went to explore a smaller and more sheltered cove near the village on the south. It was small and rather pretty with a quay lined with houses and tavernas. There was a yacht anchored slap bang in the middle of the anchorage.
We’d probably have done the same, so we edged closer to the northern shore, trying to avoid all the mooring buoys for local fishing boats, and dropped our anchor. Hmm, maybe a little bit close to the other yacht. So, we tried again. Hmm, still too close. But we were happy on our third attempt.
Heikell, our revered pilot guide, suggested taking a long-line ashore here to stop swinging close to shallower water. It’s many years since we have done this, but it’s good practice to do it. We got our dinghy in the water, fixed on the electric motor, and got our brand new “long line” out from the store cabin. Richard also put one of our long mooring lines in the dinghy, just in case our ‘long one’ was in fact too short and we needed to lash on some extra length. Off he went, tied the line to a jaggedy rock, and started to bring the other end back to Missy Bear. Of course, the first line wasn’t long enough, so he lashed the two lines together and brought the end of the mooring line back on board where we began to tie it on, only to see the two lines part company in the sea. Shocking sheet bend skills!
Back he got in the dinghy, patiently motored over to the rock where the line is tied on, grabbed the line and motored to the boat. Back on board, he tied the end of the line around the cleat, while I tied up the dinghy. I wasn’t quite fast enough to catch the line as it slithered off the cleat! Shoddy cleat work!! I did think to myself that I was glad I’d taken the dinghy action and not the line.
Back he got in the dinghy, [Ed – not cursing under my breath, honest] patiently motored over to the rock where the line is tied on, grabbed the line and motored the dinghy back to the yacht. Back on board, he tied the end of the line around the cleat, with a few extra locking turns. He didn’t say anything, even when I started whistling ‘Incy Wincy spider’. [Ed- Tres drole] Third time lucky; it held.
A few other boats joined us. One French yacht anchored very close to us, and we had to explain that we had a line ashore, and therefore would not swing around if the wind changed. If their boat swung around, then they could hit us. They said that they would take a long line ashore, but as they didn’t have a dinghy, would we do it for them? So, with a good dollop of entente cordiale, Skipper said. “Non. Desole. Meh”. (If it had been an emergency, then of course we would have obliged.) So, off they went to re-anchor further away. Twice as a matter of fact. Third time lucky.
We had a lovely sail the next morning down and around the second finger, where we anchored in a gorgeous bay called Porto Kayio. It’s a well-known, sheltered anchorage for crossing the three fingers, and we were surprised to find just one other boat here. But later on, the fourteen boats of a Sailing Holidays flotilla turned up, enroute from their winter storage in Corfu to their summer flotilla base in Astros, eastern Peloponnese.
The two lead boats built a very good flotilla raft, and we enjoyed sitting there, watching them work, reminiscing about how we used to do that in my mid-life crisis gap year. Several other boats came in later, and there was quite a buzz. We went ashore for dinner, and had quite a social time.
The next morning, we awoke to discover that weather forecast still looked good for our penultimate stage, across to the Island of Elafonisos. It was only a few-hours sail, and we selected the right-hand bay of a double horseshoe bay for anchoring. ‘Money Penny’ had told us that the previous delivery flotilla had gone in the other larger bay on the left. But, nope, all fourteen boats came into the right-hand one.
We waved to a few boats as they came in to land. One boat anchored up near us, and treated us to a full-scale domestic argument, over how deep each of them though they had anchored. He snorkelled over to prove that he was right. A row ensued, and the last we heard was him shouting (very loudly) from the water to his wife, “You’re so bloody argumentative!!”
I should say here, that in addition to the fourteen flotilla boats and us, there were at least four other boats in our bay, and quite a few boats in the other bay, all waiting for the calm winds, calm seas, sunshine etc.)
And so, after a rather bouncy night [Ed – no, not that sort!], the day dawned when we would (hopefully) complete our rounding of the bottom of the Peloponnese. Our plan was to reach the famous historic town of Monemvasia, and either get on the quay or anchor up for the night. If it was too busy, there was a bay a little bit further where we could go on to. We also knew the flotilla would be aiming for Monemvasia. But I really wanted to be on the quay there.
My father used to tell a joke about a general visiting an army hospital.
He stopped at the first bed, and asked the man what was wrong. “Piles, sir”. And what was the treatment? “Dettol and a wire brush”. And his ambition? “To get back out on the field and fight, sir”.
The general went on to the next bed – what was wrong? “Piles, sir”. And what was the treatment? “Dettol and a wire brush”. And his ambition? “To get back out on the field and fight, sir”.
The general stopped at the third bed – “Toothache, sir”. And what was the treatment? “Dettol and a wire brush”. And his ambition? “To get to the Dettol and wire brush before the other two buggers!”.
And sailing can be a bit like that. In busy seasons, boats leave at the crack of dawn to get into spaces on the quay in harbours that have been vacated by boats leaving at the crack of dawn to get into spaces on the quay... You get the picture.
So it was that we left the Island of Elafonisos bright and early (06:45) to get to Monemvasia before the other buggers. At least six boats passed by the entrance to our bay before we exited – they were keen to get to the Dettol and wire brush first. But we have learned the hard way not to rush through our pre-departure checks (“Doors to automatic please, First Mate, and cross check”), and as I leaned over the side of the boat to check the engine was pumping out water, so I made an offering to Poseidon of my Jack Duckworth ‘Maui Jim’ sunglasses, as they slid off my head and down into the water, lost forever.
It took two hours of motoring with no wind and calm waters to get to Cape Maleas, the most southerly point of the third finger. We waved at the monks as we passed the monastery (as instructed by Heikell) and noted the strong wind gusts that suddenly came down on us from the cliffs. But we turned the corner and calmly motored up, away from the cape, we were soon able to hoist the sails and drift quietly up the east coast.
Third time lucky, hey?
Incy wincy spider anchored up one night
He rowed two lines ashore to make sure that we were tight
He got back to the yacht, and with a sinking heart,
Looked out at the lines, and saw they’d come apart
Incy wincy spider didn’t say a lot
He went back to tie the lines with a tighter knot
Back on Missy Bear, he looped it round a cleat
And watched with dismay as it slithered past his feet
Incy wincy spider buttoned up his lip
He got back in the dinghy and pushed off from the ship
He played out the line, and brought it back on board
He tied a locking turn, and this time we were moored
[ALT, 13.05.2022]