Return to the Icarian Sea
- 5 days ago
- 7 min read
We continued our journey south with a quiet sail around the NE tip of Chios, from Marmaro to Lakgada, chasing the ruffles of darker-blue water that betrayed where the wind could be found. We anchored up in 18m of water, as the bay is steep-to, and felt as though we could almost step onto the beach, inhabited by a few local sun-worshippers.
Our peace was disturbed by some hollering from the nearby quayside. Two men were gesticulating to us, but were incomprehensible. Were we anchored in a location that might block a ferry, or the large water taxi that plies its trade between here and Oinousses? I thought not.
Eventually, I heard the words “The adaptor, it is mine!”...
We had plugged into shore power in Marmaro, but the only sockets are large 32-amp connections, and we only have 16-amp connectors. One of the two helpful quay staff, who is an electrical engineer by trade, said he had a 32-to-16-amp adaptor, and kindly lent it to us.
His female colleague, who collects the port fees, is a mechanical engineer by trade, as well as a teacher! So, money gathering is her third job. Therefore, they normally show up at the quay at random times, often late into the evening, or not at all. I agreed to return the adaptor to him at 09:00 when we were leaving; but at 09:30 he had not arrived. And we have no contact details for this secretive duo. So, we left it on the quayside, and departed soon after. Theft is not an issue here in Greece, so I had no concerns, but a knot formed in my stomach, because he had not found the kit.
He had tracked Missy Bear on AIS, and then driven 15 miles with a friend to hail us from the shore. I shouted back, that the adaptor was on the ground on the quay, and not still plugged into the pedestal. So, they headed off, and I truly hope they have found it where I had left it. [DN - I know, I should have left it with a café owner, and I feel terrible…]
Next day we motored the short-distance across the Chios channel, to the private island of Oinousses, and home to a Greek naval college. Like Chios, it is an epicentre of Greek naval tradition. One of the Greek shipping families based here is the Lemos family. They originate from the “Mani”, the middle finger of the Peloponnese; specifically the villages of Kardamila and Lagada.
Now, all Maniots were a thorn in the side of the occupying Ottomans, but the ‘Lemaki’ family became notorious in the 18th century when they assassinated the local Turkish garrison. The family fled eastwards (ironically) to Chios, just off the Turkish coast, changed their name to Lemos, and helped establish two villages named after their former homes: Lakgada, where we had just been anchored; and Kardamila, for which Marmaro is the port.
The family also settled on Oinousses, and became significant ship owners, including being owners of the islands first steamship, the ‘Marietta Ralli’. She was built in 1891 on the Tees by Furness, Withy at Co Ltd. In fact, many early 20th century ships owned by Greek families were built in NE England and Scotland...
As a brief aside, my maternal grandmother’s family – the Haswells – used to build sail ships and then ironclad steamships in Sunderland. One ship, ‘The Clan Macleod’ – a three-master barque - was built in 1874 by ‘Bartram, Haswell and Co’. And, if you are ever in Sydney harbour, you can go for a sail on her. She has been refloated, and fully restored, but she has been renamed the ‘James Craig’.
...Anyway, after WWII the Lemos family also received one of the hundreds of ‘Liberty Ships’ as a reward for their efforts. These simple, cheap, transporters were designed and commissioned by Britain, but constructed in the USA, to replace our horrendous merchant war losses. As British shipbuilding declined, the Lemos family, who were now resident in the finer neighbourhoods of London, commissioned their LPG tankers and container ships from yards in the far east, such as South Korea.
As next morning was calm, I launched the SUP and paddled over to one of the three nearby islands that protect the bay from the northerly wave-trains. There are Orthodox churches on each, and also thousands of noisy, territorial seagulls! I tied the SUP, and walked barefoot up a rough path to enjoy the views of the outer channel, and the inner bay and village. I decided to take my paddle with me, and held it like a rifle-at-attention, with the blade just above my head. When the seagulls swooped down, at least they would strike the paddle before my scalp!
I paddled back to Missy Bear, passing the ferry Oinousses III, which had just fired up its engines. The immense cloud of white smoke emanating from its exhaust could have been seen from the Vatican.
The winds had finally changed to northerlies. It was time to run down the Chios channel. We anchored in the tiny, shallow, and enclosed bay of Emporios, ready to sail back to our home seas, early next morning.
The village lies below a steep headland, occupied by late Stone Age/early Bronze Age settlement, comprising the remains of a Temple, a communal building and about twenty dwellings. These were constructed of local rubble, rising directly from the hard, limestone floor. The circular, stone bases of the wooden pillars - that would have supported the roofs - are still in situ. Some inhabitants would have been able to sit on their threshold and keep watch on the harbour far below them.
The distance southward to the Icarian Sea was about 40NM, and Missy Bear had a Force 4 on her port quarter, offering a comfortable ride at about 5 knots boat speed. I persuaded First Mate to head for Fournoi, not Samos, and she acquiesced. So, we gybed onto starboard tack and headed there instead. There is only one small village on this archipelago, and the local - and significant - fishing fleet hogs the inside of the harbour wall. In northerly winds the outside of the wall would have proved to be an untenable berth, so we sailed through a narrow channel in the islands and explored the several south facing bays.
Although all of them were protected from swell and large waves, most had bullets of wind blowing down through them, making the water dark blue, with tiny angry, frothing wavelets. Except the last one. It was still windy here, but beautiful, and large, with an amazing sandy floor with great holding for out 25kg Delta. It would prove to be a comfortable stop-over, and there was only one other yacht in the bay.
I launched the SUP, and paddled hard against the prevailing gusts. I discovered that my body has a lot of windage! I reached the sandy beach, which was decorated in tamarisk trees. My inflatable SUP is very light, and I learned later that you cannot simply pull it up the beach (as you can our tender, ‘Ursa Minor’) and expect to find it where you left it. When I returned from my walk, I was very grateful to a large rock that had prevented the board being blown, end-over-end, to Ikaria.
As I walked up the hillside, I experienced the heat from the rock, the smell of wild blue-flowering thyme, and the constant hum of honey bees, which sounded like a very distant drone of a Formula 1 race meeting. And this was punctuated by the excited, galloping chuckle of the numerous Perdika (the local Chukar partridge), which I disturbed into a low, frantic flight from time to time.
Later, we swung at anchor with, fine uninterrupted view of Patmos to the south. Here we were, back in home waters; back in the Icarian Sea. Although Icarus had lived-on and escaped-from Crete, using his home-made wings, legend has it that he perished in these waters. All school-children used to know (I think), that after Icarus flew too close to the sun, it melted the beeswax holding the feathers in place. The nearby island of Ikaria is also probably named after him.
The next morning we refused the offer of freshly-caught fish from a fisherman passing by in a small boat, wighed anchor, and then had a short-blast of a sail to western Samos. We were close-hauled in 21 knots of breeze, and Missy Bear was well and truly “on her ear”, screaming along at about 7-8 knots. First Mate held on heroically, and refrained from complaining too much.
In any case it was over in a flash, as we reached the lee of Samos. We tied up in Ormos, and put the boat’s contents back in the correct locations. Most stuff which wasn’t lashed down, had ended up on the cabin floor, including my iPad, which had 'bounced', thankfully.
We invited Sophie and Bertrand onboard for aperos, and met them again for coffee the next morning before we said our 'à la prochaines.'
There was a strong northerly wind forecast. They were heading south to lift-out earlier than us, and we decided to head eastwards and hunker down in Pythagoreio for a few days, stern-to the wonderful, circular town quay. This is an ancient site, and the modern town still sits like a natural theatre surrounding the old anchorage.
Missy Bear is moored directly under the flight path of the nearby airport, and a few holiday jets roar overhead taking their passengers back to western Europe, perhaps looking down with some triste upon the golden beaches and blue seas below. Fortunately, this crew does not have such a pressing schedule to leave the Sea of Icarus…
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