And further north…

Missy Bear alongside at Langhadi, Chios

The following morning was an early rise, as we had over 50NM to sail to our next island on the ladder, Chios. We weighed anchor at 07:30 and, with a F3 from the south west, bowled along under asymmetric averaging well over 6 knots.

As is often the case along the Anatolian coastline, headlands of Türkiye jut out westwards, and to get from one Greek Island to another efficiently, one must cross through areas of Turkish water. This, in international maritime law, is termed “innocent passage”, as we were sailing with peaceful intentions. If we had spotted a Turkish coastguard boat heading our way, we might have swapped the Greek courtesy flag for a Turkish one. But none was seen.  

As we approached the Chios channel, the SW wind squeezed between the island and the Turkish mainland, backed to a southerly, and reached 25 knots (F6). So, we put in a cautious three reefs, and made good time.

We passed Chios town to port, and eventually arrived at the small, picturesque village and port of Langhadi on the NE corner of the island. We tied alongside, and ate supper at a taverna about 20 strides from Missy Bear.

After we had turned in to our berths, the wind had backed some more and a few ripples were being sent into the bay, slapping into the wide and low stern of the yacht, thus disturbing the sleep of our two guests in the aft quarters. So, at 00:30, we slipped the lines and motored into the head of the bay a hundred metres away to drop anchor. With Missy Bear then laying bows to the small waves, a peaceful night was to be had.

The next morning, I made good use of the paddleboard, by ferrying our rubbish bag ashore to the communal bins. I then paddled up a small, very shallow river that emptied into the head of the bay. A couple of Greek lads hailed me on the way back, and asked me to retrieve their basketball, that they had thrown out of the court by accident, and had rolled into the drink. My good deed for the day had been achieved early.  

Marmaro, Chios

We had a gently sail around the NW cape and then arrived at Marmaro, the port of old Kardamyla. We tied alongside and then walked along the road, and up into the traditional, stone-built village of Kardamyla. Happily, there was the traditional square, shaded by an enormous Plane tree, with a taverna advertising its wood-fired oven. We all enjoyed roast leg of lamb for lunch.

The wind had picked up when we arrived back at the port, and water was splashing over the breakwater. I realised our heavy, blue welcome-mat had blown overboard, so I donned my swimmers and mask and went hunting for it on the sea floor at 5m depth. There was no sign of it anywhere….  

Close-hauled to Lesbos

As we were headed to Lesbos the next morning, it was another early start, slipping the mooring at 07:30. The wind was only F2 to 3 from the ENE, so we were sailing close-hauled, but bowling along at over 7 knots at times. As we approach Lesbos, the wind veered and lifted us further eastwards towards the easternmost of the two massive bays that indent the south of the island (the third largest in Greece).

We motored in through the narrow, winding channel, passing rocks on both sides, and eventually dropped anchor at in a huge, sheltered fishing bay at Skala Loutra. There were already six other yachts anchored there, and five were also flying the red-ensign. It was Little Britain on water. I paddled around the anchorage and chatted to the neighbours; the paddle board turns out to be good for socialising. I also floated close over several old-ships skeletons rotting in the graveyard in the corner near the fishing-boat quay.

We ate onboard that night, and set off the next morning, for a short run in a light southerly around and up towards Mytiline, the capital. We goose-winged and gybed our way through the poorly-marked field of lobster pots, all four pairs of eyes trained on the barely-visible hazards, dropped in the harbour approaches.

Beating up the east coast of Lesbos

Alix had booked us into the Marina as a blow had been forecast, along with some rain. We put on two lazy lines. We played cards as usual, and then ate supper in the marina bar out of the gusts and showers.

The next morning found Missy Bear beating up the east coast of Lesbos in a strengthening wind. We put in three reefs as we heeled over to port, and then to starboard climbing northwards. The occasional wave broke over the bow, showering Missy Bear in salty spray.

We eventually tacked up behind a line of small islands and turned left into the beautiful, sheltered and tranquil bay of Palios. As we dropped back on anchor, our stern blew close to a fisherman’s buoy. When I dived to check the anchor (as I normally do), I realised the buoy market the end of a very long bottom net linking many fish or lobster traps together.

When I went into our main forward berth, I realised that the pile of clean, dry towels and fleeces, that had just been laundered, were wet. Strange. It soon dawned on me that the cause was our forward hatch that had not been fully closed. One of the waves had ended up on the inside! Fortunately, the clothes had saved the duvet and sheet below to a great extent. So, I stripped the bed, and hung everything out on deck to dry. Fortunately, Greece has very many “good drying days”.

Later that evening, a portly, young fisherman turned up, sporting canary yellow oilskins, in his little boat, and began hauling in the nets. It seemed to us he had caught exactly nothing. We put the engine on and motored forward a few meters, so that he could lift his last marker without fouling us. He said thank you, and motored off, possibly disappointed?

Palios Bay, Lesbos, at dawn from the stream

Palios is a super bay, but unfortunately plagued by flies. A lot of fly spray was used at this anchorage. Next morning I was up at 06:00 to paddle-board up one of the shallow streams that empty into the bay. I paddled around and behind a sand spit, trying to keep to the deeper sections. The fin ran aground a couple of times, almost catapulting me off the front. The river had three small houses on the bank, and was bounded by rubble walls. I turned and managed to get a few photos with my GoPro as the sun rose.

I had risen early because we wanted to head around to the NW of the island, to Molyvos, before the forecast westerly wind set in. There was no wind when we headed along the north coast of Lesbos. Inshore off the port bow, we spotted white water, which was probably a feeding frenzy of gulls or shearwaters picking off fish being forced up from below by watery predators.

Common Dolphins off Missy Bear's bow

Immediately, we spotted dolphins just off our starboard bow, and before long a group of half-a-dozen Common Dolphins were playing effortlessly on Missy Bear’s bow wake. They stayed there for several minutes, before peeling off and heading-off inshore towards the ongoing frenzy. Perhaps they could sense it was there?

We learned from the taverna owners in Molyvos that the sardine season had just started. We feasted on small, fresh barbecued sardines at least twice. We were the only yacht in the harbour, but parked up close to a single, large fishing boat. One taverna owner told us that this fishing boat hunted sardines, mackerel and anchovies. It had returned early to port, because a pod of dolphins had raided and wrecked its nets.  

Let’s hope the fishermen were not too angry, and were kind to our aquatic mammalian neighbours…