…And beware the Mother-in-Law

 The wind was due to blow hard from the south, and Missy Bear was sailing northwards up the Evvia channel – between mainland Attica and the island - looking for a nice sheltered anchorage on the island side. We headed for an archipelago called Nisos Petalioi, which looked like it would provide protection from most wind angles, if you looked hard enough.

Towards Nisos Petalioi

It was very early in the season, and we were not expecting many boats to be around. There was one catamaran and one large monohull, that both seemed to be heading to the same group of islands. The monohull dropped its sails and headed into one of the narrow channels. We did the same and followed her in. There was no other boat transponding AIS, so we thought our target bay would be empty.

But as she headed to port into the shallow cove, and into the shelter from wind and wave, we realised that there were three big catamarans in there already anchored and tied alongside each other. There were about a dozen people on each and they were dancing around on the large decks to a disco soundtrack. The monohull pulled alongside and joined the raft, and also joined in the party.

The group seemed a very happy bunch, and the music wasn’t offensive [Alix: it was great]. We anchored up and enjoyed the vibes and casually wondered what they were up to. A flotilla? There seemed to be too many people for the berths onboard. A day-trip? Well, it was already 15:30, so if they were going back to port on the mainland, it would be a late arrival.

Soon “Happy Birthday” was being belted out in English. So, perhaps we had bombed a big birthday party? But the actual answer followed shortly afterwards. The music died, and one of the men went down on bended knee in front of a blond woman on the foredeck of the central cat. We couldn’t hear what was said, but could only guess. A couple of seconds later, there as a loud cheer, so we assume that the woman had said “yes, I will!” There was a loud cheer and the music and dancing recommenced but now with even more gusto.

One of the cats had a big, black RIB hanging off the stern, and soon the happy couple were climbing onto it with their close friends and slipping away. As the Greek entourage motored slowly past us, we waved and wished them all the best. They smiled back and shouted “thank you”.

Soon the raft was broken up and the four boats headed off towards the Attica coast. And peace at last. We were let alone in this magical place. It appeared like we were sitting in a huge, shimmering blue lake, as the expanses of water were visually enclosed by land – small islands, Evvia or the Attica mainland in the distance. There was no visible escape to the open sea.

Sunset at Nisos Petalioi

The next morning, we continued northwards looking for some shelter from a strong northerly wind that would arrive that evening, and that would blow overnight into the next day. Social media posts from sailors in the northern Sporades, showed some concern that wind gusts of 60 knots were expected, as a low pressure passed eastwards over northern Greece and the Black Sea. Evvia – the second largest island in Greece, after Crete, would offer us shelter from the sea state, but we wanted to get out of the northern wind, by tucking into the head of a bay open to the south. Our target was Ormos Almiropotamou. Ormos means ‘bay’ in Greek.   

At the head of the bay, we first anchored off the village of Panagia, to find a supermarket. First Mate had realised that our entire onboard wine store was of the red variety. She and Lynn drink white, so there had been a mild panic. After the victualling crisis had been remedied, we lashed the dinghy behind us and motored to the anchorage at the opposite corner of the bay head. We put nearly all our chain out, in anticipation of the big blow arriving. There was one other yacht already anchored – an Oyster 406 called Muskrat, which was owned by an English couple, who are also Cruising Association members.

Missy Bear survived the gusts, but we did have to re-anchor as we had blown hard around, all our chain had been pulled tight and extended, and we were now lying a little too close to a shallow lee shore for comfort. Fortunately, the boys carried out the procedure before the rain kicked in. The other good news was that it was a clean rain from a depression, not a sandy, silt-laden rain driven from the south. Instead of covering the boat in dust, Missy Bear was gleaming the next morning.

The crew likes to have a game or two on board before dinner. We are teaching Lynn to play cribbage. But we also like a couple of rounds of Yahtzee. The next evening, we were going to eat ashore in the only taverna. Alix had phoned them to make sure they were open, as the village had a pre-season, deserted feel to it.

The Crew

We flubbered over to the quay, tied up and then took a table on the outside terrace to get the last of the sun and warmth. We were the only customers. Alix asked the young waitress if it was alright for us to play dice out here with aperitifs, and then move inside to eat.  Of course, she said, “but please tell me what you want to eat now. We have to light the fire!”

We ordered sardines to start and then main courses of pork chops and sea bream, with Greek salad and chips.

We played one game, and maybe that should have been all we attempted. As we started the second, I could see clouds of sparks above the oven in the outside kitchen. A minute later, there was the unmistakable waft of barbecuing sardines. Despite Alix having asked to delay food until we were ready, we assumed that request had been lost in translation. A minute later, a very stout Greek lady – clearly the chef du jour – appeared out of the kitchen onto the terrace and, with hands on hips, was berating us very loudly in Greek. My Duolingo language course had not prepared me at all for this. But, although I understood not a word, I got the distinct impression that dinner was nearly ready and that we were not!

The lovely waitress hurried out to us, apologising profusely. "No worries", we said, as we cleared the dice away, and hurried indoors. “I’m so sorry”, she repeated.

In typical Greek style, the starters came out at the same time as the mains. But the sardines were delicious, the grilled pork steak beautifully seasoned, and the two large, Tsipoura (landed that day), firm and juicy. A complementary desert followed of chopped apples and banana, smother in honey.

“She is my mother-in-law”, the waitress explained, “and she wanted you to have the food while its hot!” I said, "I understand!" Nobody was going to argue.