This blog post covers our departure from Donousa, a stop along Naxos’s south coast and ends with stunning Milos and the nearby islands of Palaigos and Kimolos.
Some stops are nothing more than functional … 100% utilitarian, with little to no entertainment value and that’s just how it is! This should be fine, right? However, it is easy for all of us to get caught up in wanting an amazing experience at every turn. We really struggle when we have friends or family on board because they only have a week and we want each day to be full to the point of overflowing with sights and activities; we hope that each evening’s anchorage will be beautiful and memorable – yet one without drama where we can all get a restful night’s sleep. If you have spent any time living on a sailboat or going on an extended driving trip, you know how hard it is to balance moving along on your planned, longer-term route while also having enriching or exciting experiences.
I was looking at the current portion of our summer’s journey as something to tolerate between special stops. We had recently left the amazing islands of Samos, Patmos and Arki and we were headed toward renown Milos but we had at least two stops along the way. However, the first of these stops was in Roussa Harbor on Donousa – the final island Tom covered in the previous blog – and it was a very pleasant surprise and a place I would hate to categorize as functional. We had a beautiful anchorage with calm seas in the large, protected bay as the wind was wild just outside and the busy, welcoming taverna fed our souls as well as our bodies.
There are not many marine preserves in Greece – in fact, not many in the entire the Med – but we set our course for the island of Arki, a soon-to-be ratified part of the North Dodecanese Wildlife Refuge, and a short distance from Leros where we had started from just a week ago. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a protected area in Greece, but our arrival in the calm harbor of Port Augusta answered any doubts I had. Here was an only slightly larger version of the charming little village of Agathonisi that we had visited last week. Approaching the small town quay, we could see plenty of space around the few boats already med moored to the quay. After the warmup at Agathonisi, Karen was in natural form as she turned Sea Rose around and began backing into the quay as I lowered the anchor. Med mooring with two people is a bit tricky, as you can really use a third person to manage tying the stern lines to the quay. Thankfully, a gentleman from a nearby boat wandered over and helped with that task. And the reduced breeze reduced the stress level as well.
It was July 15th when we were finally underway for this pandemic-impacted sailing season. There were far more unknowns to contend with this year but since we already acted on the tough decision to come to Europe amid all the potential for new and changing travel restrictions we had to dive in and start exploring. This summer would be an exercise in flexibility … and not of the musculature type!
For our first night away from Sea Rose’s winter home, we set our course for Agathonisi, a short trip to a small island to the NE of Leros. Being early season, we have a list of projects that would steal our time over the coming days, so picking a place close by seemed perfect. Being afternoon when we finally departed the boatyard, we immediately experienced high winds and quickly found ourselves flying past small islets at 9 kts of boat speed. I hope we’re ready for this wild ride!
Like a seasoned pit crew at the Indy 500, Karen and I worked as fast as lightning in Astipalea, bidding farewell to Dan, Shelly and Don at 7am and welcoming Connor and Andree on board just 2 hours later. In fact, Connor and Andree were getting off the same flight at Astipalea that Dan, Shelly and Don were boarding! Buckets of soap and sponges were flying around the cabin, linens were being picked up by the local laundry service, and provisions were hastily purchased and stowed. With only two flights a week, and no ferry service directly available, we had no choice but to ask our guests to deboard and board the same day.
All I could remember about Ios, from our honeymoon 27 years ago, was its reputation as a party island. We had already held an awesome party in the form of an outdoor wedding reception in the wine country of California’s Sonoma Valley. When we had finally shed ourselves from all the strings of post-weddingness and boarded the flight to Greece, late-night parties were not high on my list. I wanted to be a regular tourist, with regular tourist ambitions in Greece, like touring the Parthenon and relaxing on the sands of a sun-bleached island. Mykonos, like Ios, hadn’t made the honeymoon cut, but after Karen and I spent three days there earlier this summer and appreciated the island’s charms, I felt bad that we had stereotyped it into a corner. For sure, it was no fun being anchored off the cacophony that is Paradise Cove, but we found the old town of Mykonos immensely stroll-able and oozing with striking bougainvillea at every turn. Now, as we sailed Sea Rose into the main harbor at Ios, I tried to keep more of an open mind. If nothing else, we greatly appreciated the protection of the harbor, nearly enclosed except from the Southwest, making the high winds from the North less threatening. We had heard that the public dock was a good option here, in fact, the only option. With the high frequency of big passenger ferries arriving constantly, they needed all of the navigable water in the harbor to turn and maneuver on to the ferry landing. If anchoring in the harbor was forbidden because of this ferry traffic, I was completely accepting; neither of us wanted to get rolled by the ferry’s wake, or worse.
As we departed Poros in the pre-dawn light, we would be leaving the Saronic Gulf and entering the greater Aegean Sea region. This part of the Aegean is best known for the Cyclades islands, with popular destinations like Santorini, Mykonos and Naxos. And popular with our friends, of which we had four groups joining us over the next five weeks. Karen and I had one more week by ourselves; seven days to cross the 100 miles to Mykonos, where we would pickup our good friends Bob and Lisa. The excitement of having guests after several weeks of being by ourselves was tempered by the reality check of the mid-Summer wind conditions in this area. We had been casually watching the weather forecasts in the Aegean since we had arrived in Greece a month ago. Boy, was this going to be interesting! July and August here are renowned for the Meltemi, a very forceful wind that blows down from the Black Sea and fans out over the Cyclades islands. It can ebb and flow, but when it really blows, it can carry on for five or more days, pinning you down in the closest south-facing harbor, trying to avoid the fetch of waves that start several hundred miles to the north.
“Rion Bridge, Rion Bridge, this is the sailing vessel Sea Rose, over!”
“Sea Rose, go ahead.”
“Yes, Rion Bridge, we are a 13 meter sailing vessel with a height of 19 meters, approaching the bridge heading East. We request permission to pass.”
“Sea Rose, you are clear to transit the bridge. You must use the north channel. Call again when you are one mile away.”
Our VHF radio conversation with the Rion Bridge Traffic Control office marks the early morning start to our passage into the Gulf of Corinth. This short cut to the Saronic Gulf and Aegean Sea – the ‘real’ Greece if you believe the travel brochures – was very intentional. There was no way we could round the big bulge south of us comprised of the Peloponnese peninsula without a serious hit to our time line. Karen and I were eager to see the eastern portion of Greece and re-discover the Cyclades Islands that we so fondly remembered from our honeymoon. And a sailing trip through Greece wouldn’t be complete without exploring these classic blue and white washed islands.
The big news this post is that Tom got our water maker working! We carried all the components of this reverse osmosis desalination system from the states to Italy when we came over in May. Tom had worked on various aspects of the installation since launching, whenever he could find spare minutes. Now we were ready to flip the switch and see how everything had come together. We ran the system for 30 minutes, making water into a bucket at first. This is a recommended step to clean the system from any manufacturing or shipping particles before running the clean (or desalinated) water into your tanks. He found one leak that was quickly fixed by tightening a hose clamp. After testing the salinity and being comfortable with the level, we turned a valve which directed the flow into one of our two water storage tanks – how exciting! We could now check off one more factor that made us ready for long-term, self-sufficient cruising! Our solar panels supply the energy for electricity, our sails provide power for movement, our freezer enables “fresh” food storage for longer periods and now our water maker turns sea water into drinkable water. This gives us the freedom to stay in remote locations for as long as our food stores hold out!
After a long day of transatlantic travel, it felt great to be back onboard Sea Rose. During our trip back home to the States, she had managed just fine in her slip at the Gouvia Marina on Corfu. When your boat is your home and you put your blood, sweat, and tears into her care and feeding, it’s a little unnerving to leave her alone for ten days. In our favor, no sudden storms arose nor bumps from navigationally-challenged neighbors. She was just as we left her, plus a little growth on her waterline from the few days of idleness. It was time to get our pride and joy prepped and ready for more adventure. Our friends Steve and Julie would be arriving in two days and we had a full task list to complete before we started entertaining again.
The day and the hour had arrived. It was time to exit Croatia once and for all. Six weeks ago, we had cleared into a country that we knew only through travel books and friend’s stories. This morning, we would trek back to the harbourmaster’s office to clear out, with a plethora of diverse experiences tucked away in heads, enough to fill a few storytelling sessions around a winter’s fireplace.
Our kids and Andrew were on their way to the airport, and we wasted no time shoving off from the Q dock to make progress south along the isolated last few miles of the Croatian coast before entering Montenegrin waters. This time around, we weren’t groggy from an overnight passage from Italy. We had slept well, and knew exactly where to go and how to clear in to Montenegro.