Another literally ‘cracking’ sail

We were sad to say goodbye to our new chums Michaela and Toby in Nea Klima, especially after such a fun afternoon out with them around Skopelos, re-living scenes from the Mamma Mia movie.

But we had to return to Skiathos town to check out of the Sporades with the Port Police. Our departure was slightly delayed by a yacht coming in next to us, as Richard felt duty-bound to help the skipper with his lines. It was a hen-party over from Portugal, with a group of scantily-clad young women sporting bits of string as swimwear.

They eventually pulled on t-shirts and shorts before clambering into taxis to do the Mamma Mia tour. The day-boat skipper thanked us, and once we were sure there was nothing more to do, he similarly helped us with our lines and off we set.

Back in Skiathos town, we moored up stern-to the town quay. There was absolutely no-one to help with our lines so Richard stopped Missy Bear just short of the concrete, stepped ashore to secure the lines and passed them back on board to me. Of course, once we had finished, the harbour master turned up.

He confirmed that we could stay where we had chosen. We enjoyed a bit of “Hafenkino” (the German word for yacht comings and goings, literally meaning “harbour cinema”). A couple of British guys on their own yacht dropped the anchor too close, didn’t tighten it or generally check it, didn’t put fenders out and then buggered off. [Ed - Their anchor dragged the next morning.]

They were followed in by a boat with nine German guys on board (colloquially known as a ‘sausage-fest’). They didn’t even bother with the anchor, but come in reversing full-speed to the wall. The harbour master told them they needed to drop the hook. So, they then decided to drop it there and then, about one-and-a-half boat lengths from the quay. Richard informed them [Ed - heartily], that they needed to be at least three boat lengths (or about 50m) away before the let the anchor drop. “Ja, Ja”. More hafenkino ensued.

Later on, who should come in next to us, but the skipper of the hen-party’s day boat. Along with the hen-party. Richard, as was his duty, jumped ashore to help with the lines. I was on our stern, ready to fend, and caught the spectacle of one girl, wearing a piece of dental floss between her buttocks, bending right over to pull her shorts on. The harbour-master had a bird’s eye view of this, and we smirked at each other, as Richard diligently tied a line on to a shore cleat and missed the show.

It turned out, Missy Bear was actually moored in the day-boat’s reserved space, but the skipper said it was no problem.

It was now time to think about heading north. We had wanted to tour some of the remote, north-eastern Sporades within the Marine Park to spot the elusive monk seals, but the weather didn’t look great for this. It did look tickety-boo, though, for heading north. So we agreed we would anchor overnight, and set off in the morning, just before 07:00.

An early start to Khalkidiki

We had great wind for an hour, then no wind and bumpy seas (and a grumpy captain), but the wind picked up again, and we had a steady 9-12 knots of easterly wind on our beam all the way up. Missy Bear slid along at 5-7 knots of boat speed.

It was a ‘cracking’ sail, in more ways than one. Late morning, Richard offered to make coffee, and placed the coffee pot on top of the gimballed stove, with the filter on top. He clamped the holders around the pot, and poured the hot water into the filter paper. At this point, Missy Bear mounted a small wave. The coffee-pot, held firm by the holders, stayed where it was. But the coffee filter, containing three big desert-spoons of wet coffee grains, flew off the pot, and scattered wet grounds everywhere.

Richard got down on his knees, said some words I couldn’t distinguish, and started to clear the wet grounds. At this point another small wave smacked our beam, and the (clearly) unlocked cutlery drawer shot out from its runners and cracked into the top of Richard’s skull. Small yellow birds were seen circling.

I made Richard come up top at this point, and said we would sort it out later. Coffee was abandoned, so we sailed drinking water and eating the sandwiches I had made before we set out.

Missy Bear in Porto Koufo

We arrived up at the middle finger of the Khalkidhiki peninsula, and were anchored up in the most beautiful natural harbour of Porto Koufo by about 14.30.

As promised, I too got down on my hands and knees, and used cotton buds and cocktail sticks to finish getting all of the coffee grounds out of the various crevices.

What a waste of good coffee!