The Ionian Islands… or some of them

When we woke up, Hurricane Ianos was gone. She had rumbled further on its path to the southeast. Before long, she would have passed the Peloponnese. From there she would again go out into the Mediterranean. When she was a few nautical miles off the coast of Libya, she would dissolve.

At least that was what the weather models predicted.

Now the sun was shining again from a cloudless sky. The wind was light and the ripples on the calm sea glittered in the morning light.

Many boats had already left the marina. We got ready for departure, threw the mooringlines and sailed out into the strait between the Ionian Sea and the large lagoon.

The tide was with us. We quickly reached the two buoys. There we changed - like most others - our course by 90 degrees to port.

Down towards the southern Ionian islands, where Ianos had caused such great destruction two days earlier.

The 6 nautical mile stretch to Lefkas was filled with boats. All with course towards the canal between Lefkas and the mainland. A few had set sail. Only their speed with the slightly fluttering sails revealed that they also used motor.

On a boat in front of us, we caught a glimpse of a red and white stern flag. We had a slightly greater speed and when we got closer, we saw that the flag was Danish. And when we got even closer, we saw that it was the Danish boat that had helped us anchor at the small island of Meganisi.

“The weather models all started saying the same thing. So we went just like you further north. We could not get a berth in Cleopatra Marina. So we went further into the lagoon. Here we found a nice anchorage, ”said the skipper when we were within speaking distance.

“We were probably a 15-20 boats. When we got the edge of Ianos Saturday night, there were a few that started drifting. But no danger. They got the anchor laid out again. So we have really been safe and well. ” finished the skipper, speaking with a certain weight. He belonged to the small exclusive circle of yachtsmen who, by virtue of their professional background, have the right to lead any ship, at any time, in any water.

After almost an hour of sailing, we reached the marina in Lefkas.

The inner basin was packed with boats waiting for the bridge over the canal to be opened. Also in the outer basin there were many. More came. We reduced the speed to almost nothing and put ourselves in a waiting position between the many boats. It was almost like participating in the start of a race, where everyone seeks to get the best possible position before the start. At last the siren howled. Shortly after, the bridge opened. We sailed into the 4 nautical mile long narrow canal.

Out of the canal we headed for the small island of Meganisi, located in the southern part of the waters between Lefkas and the mainland. This was where we had been before we had sheltered from Ianos some twenty nautical miles further north.

Meganisi

Meganisi is 11 kilometers long. At its widest point 5 kilometers. It is one of the smallest of the inhabited islands in the Ionian Sea, but the largest of the surrounding small islands. (Hence the name Meganisi, which is the Greek word for largest).

On the north side are five well-protected bays with excellent anchorages. The terrain is hilly, yes you might even say mountainous, as the highest point is 297 masl And then there is a green island, where pine and olive trees grow all the way down to the water's edge.

The main occupation is tourism, but fishing and growing olives, vegetables and fruit still contribute to income and employment.

Just over 1.000 residents are registered as permanent residents of the island. Most live in one of the island's three villages.

In the largest, Katomeri, resides the island's mayor. Meganisi is one of Greece's 332 municipalities. The small municipality also consists of two small islands. Scorpios with two inhabitants and Sparti which is uninhabited.

From the other two villages of Vathi and Spartakori, there are several daily ferry departures to Nidri on Lefkas, which are a few nautical miles away.

Vathi

We arrived in Vathi in the middle of the afternoon and had booked a room in the marina, which did not look like the marina on the nicely designed website particularly well.

"Sorry" was the response on the VHF when we requested permission to moor. "Come back after four."

We sailed out of the small bay. Stopped the engine, jumped into the cooling crystal clear water, had lunch, drank coffee, jumped into the water again and enjoyed the quiet atmosphere.

After a few hours we called again. This time with luck. We were the first guest boat, but it was not long before the marina was full. Most apparently charter boats that had made a stop in Vathi onto the holiday route.

In the evening we went for a walk along the town quay.

With only 145 inhabitants, Vathi is the smaller of the three villages. It is also called Little Vathi in order not to confuse it with the town Vathi on the nearby island of Itaca, which was Odysseus' home island.

Incidentally, Meganisi also has a part in the tale of Odysseus.

It is the island of Taphos, where Mentes, one of Odysseus' good friends, lives. It is from here that Athena, the goddess of war, craft and art, disguised as Mentes sails over to Itaca. She seeks out Odysseus' son Telemachus. Tells that his father Odysseus is alive and encourages him to travel out and look for him.

There is a good selection of taverns, bars and cafes in Little Vathi.

According to Google Maps, there are also two supermarkets. Perhaps a slightly pretentious description of the two grocery stores where one can buy the most necessary groceries.

Vathi also has a town quay. It is free to moor, but there is no access to shore power, water, shower and toilet facilities. And yet. Some of the boats on the town quay (perhaps the ones with the most experienced crews) were connected to an electric cable that disappeared into a café, where a sign stated that one could get a bath for 5 €.

We had thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of the marina. The next day we left it.

There was very light wind. We went for motor with half power heading east along the north side of the island. After less than an hour, we reached another bay. We had been there before and sailed all the way to the bottom.

What? i The good anchorage was available again. And as if that was not enough.

The Danish boat that had helped us anchorin the bay and which we had met on the way down to Meganisi, was also back in ´its´ anchorage.

We dropped the anchor and put the engine in the reverse. Then we heard a sound we only knew all too well.

Holy Moly !!!

The line on the dinghy had been wrapped around the propeller. Again. But now there were no young people on board to dive under Heron and cut the propeller free.

How could this happen?

We had replaced the line in the dinghy with a floating line. Just to prevent it from going into the propeller. But the floating line was very soft. So maybe if we put the engine in the reverse?

And yes. The amazing thing happened. The soft floating line wound out of the screw, in the brief moment the engine was in reverse.



"I saw something was wrong", the skipper of our Danish neighbor's boat explained when we later went over for a cup of coffee. He continued reassuringly: “But no problem. We have diving equipment on board. I was ready to put it on and swim over to you and cut the screw free ”.

Sparthakori

We are big fans of the Navily app. Here you can read about other sailors' assessments of most marinas and anchorages in the Mediterranean.

We set out to find out what others thought about the marina in Sparthakori - one of the other three villages on Meganisi.

“This is one of our favorite places in Greece. Very safe and well maintained. They are very busy in high season so you must call a day or two in advance ” wrote one.

From another it read “We could not go because the owner of the restaurant who manages everything asked us our nationality. When we specified that we were French, no place for us… ”.

We were out of high season. Anyway, we called to hear if there was a vacancy.

A deep male voice answered our call.

He did not answer if there was a vacancy, but instead asked, "Where are you from?"

As we were not French, he continued the conversation by asking about Heron's length, beam, and depth. Then he ended the conversation with "Make sure you are here after two o'clock tomorrow".

Just over 14.00pm the next day we were in a waiting position next to the pontoon that made up the marina in Sparthakori.

“'Welcome Heron. Follow me ”shouted the young man in the dinghy that came sailing towards us from inside the pontoon. We waved an OK in response. Then he turned the dinghy and sailed toward a concrete quay.

"Havn´t you got a vacancy on the pontoon?" we shouted.

"Babis want you there" he replied and pointed to the concrete quay, where a strong man, obviously Babis, waved us towards a small space between two boats.

We could do nothing but follow Babi's recommendations. As we got closer, the instructions changed to furious commands like "slow down, speed up, more thrust, less thrust, more starboard, less starboard, be carefull of the lines".

But something we must have done something right. Because when we had maneuvered Heron into the square, Babis acknowledged with a "Well done". This time in what we chose to interpret as, an appreciative tone.

The boats on either side of us were English.

"We arrived a week ago" explained the man in the boat on our starboard side. “We like it here. We may be leaving sometime next week. If the weather is right ”.

"Where?"

"Kastos" replied the man and added with a smile "It sounds so serious, but it is not more than 10 nautical miles from here"

The pair in the English boat on our port side were in their early fifties. The man had been engaged in mussel fishing in Scotland. Without a single day off, he had sailed out into the harsh Scottish waters early in morning for 20 years. Together with his partner, he had dived to the bottom, where they had had picked mussels. Later in the day, the mussels had been brought to London, where restaurants offered them as a fresh delicacy from Scotland.

The woman had worked with vulnerable families in the police and was an avid recreational diver. It was through diving that they had met each other. By the time they had been together for a few years, they had bought a boat, quit their jobs, and been on a long voyage. 11.000 nautical miles they had sailed before reaching the southern part of the Ionian Islands. Since then, they had only sailed here. In Spartakori, where they had now been lying for a few weeks, they helped Babis and his large family with diving assignments and minor repairs and also taught the children a little English.

"Where do you pay marina fees?"

"Once in a while a lady from the municipality comes and charges 10 € for an overnight stay, but we have not seen her this year" the couple explained and added "But Babis would like you to eat at the tavern as payment for staying here"

“But what about the lady from the municipality. Why is she coming? ”

"Because it is the municipality's pier," the couple explained with a slight shrug.

When in Rome

It was not long before we fell into the rhythm of our English neighbor.

For the first time in the Mediterranean, we were moored with the bow facing land. Now we had unobstructed views of the sea from the cockpit. In the morning we jumped into the sea from the bathing platform, swam in the crystal clear water and climbed up Heron on the bathing ladder. Then we had our breakfast while watching the day begin in the small harbor community.

Then there were the various jobs of the day. There is always something to do on a boat. The weather forecast needs to be studied in detail. A mooringline may need to be relocated. Water may need to be filled in the tank. The handle for the toilet is maybe a little tight and needs to be lubricated. Maybe the power has gone. All little things that do not sound like much when you write it, but which fill the daily life of a boat.

During the day we walked the many steps up to the small town. Exhaled at the café, which is located with a fabulously beautiful view of the harbor, the archipelago and the Greek mainland. Went through the narrow street to the small grocery store, which kindly offered to bring larger purchases down to the harbor.

In the afternoon we went over to Babi's tavern. Drink a cup of coffee. Considered him commanding arriving boats, as if he were personally responsible for ensuring that each one got safely into the berth he pointen out on his pontoon or the municipality's concrete quay.

When it got dark, we went back to the tavern. Went to the glass counter where the ingredients for the day's dishes were on display. Was introduced to the dish of the day, prepared by one and served by another from Barbie's large family.

At closing time, we saw Babi's brother start the engine on his small rubber boat to sail alone in pitch-dark darkness over to Nidri, from where he drove up to the town of Lefkas, where he lived with his daughter.

When the light went out in the tavern, Babis went to rest in a small room adjacent to the tavern. When the tavern opened the next morning, he was the first man in place. Had it been bad weather at night, he would sit red-eyed in the morning at his table because he had spent most of the night looking after his guest boats.

But we were moving on. We told our English neighbor and Babis that we were planning to sail over to Sivota on Lefkas a short hour’s sailing away.

"One of these days, if the weather is right" we answered when they asked when.

Sivota

From the sea, it is not easy to spot the entrance to Sivota. You have to get close to see the opening in the vertical rock wall. The entrance is well marked. Only a short distance inside the entrance, you discover the large natural harbor, which is surrounded by green hills or mountains, if you want. There is a long promenade with taverns, cafes and shops almost all the way around the bay. Several pontoons offer free accommodation with access to WiFi, electricity, water, shower and toilet.

Free?

Yes, almost, but "You are expected to have your dinner at our tavern" as it was stated with ordinary Greek courtesy on a sign on each of the pontoons.

The weather was both with us and not with us. The sun was shining from an almost cloudless sky. The temperature was comfortable, but outside the protected natural harbor it was blowing well from the south. So much so that we did not feel like saling to Vathi on Itaca to meet Jan and Mette, who were on a week's holiday there. Several times the weather forecast said it would be calm the next day, but each time it changed at short notice. The weather had just turned to what Rod and Lucinda Heikell so aptly call "unsettled" in their popular pilot books for the Mediterranean.

One of the days our English neighbors from Sparthakori came to visit.

"We're on our way home," they said. "We´ll have a day in Sivota and the day after on Kastos to say good bye for this year. The day after tomorrow we will sail up to Preveza and be hauled out at Ionian Marina before heading home for the winter. ”

In the evening we had dinner with our English neighbor at a small tavern. They said goodbye to the proprietor, whom they knew so well that she kindly gave us the rest of our plentiful portions to take home as a packed lunch.

After dinner we fell into conversation with a couple of the other Englishmen at the little tavern.

"My wife and I were in Auckland when New Zealand went into lock down in the spring," one said. “Together with other foreigners, we were housed in a prison. After a few days we were told to go home. The tickets were provided. Them plus the stay in prison we came to pay a small fortune for. Now I´ve come down here to look at the boat. We hope our flight leave as planned next week ”

The Covid-19 epidemic had flared up again in the UK and a large number of strict restrictions had just been introduced to curb the spread. As yet, there was no clarity on how lockdown would affect air traffic and the ability to get home.

By the spring, the Greeks had introduced very strict restrictions and had had remarkably few Covid-19 cases. However, in the areas around Athens and Thessaloniki, sharply rising infection rates were now reported. As yet, there were few or no Covid-19s cases in the Lefkas and Epirus regions where we stayed.

But that could soon change. The idea of ​​preparing Heron for the winter during a strict LockDown without knowing when we could come home to Denmark was not appealing.

We had agreed with Aktio Marina, located opposite Preveza, that Heron would be hauled out and spend the winter at their yard.

A few minutes drive from the boat dock is a small airport - Action. It is only open during the summer and has a couple of international connections. Once a week there is a connection to Berlin. It was still open. From there we could easily get to Copenhagen.

We bought 2 tickets. When bad weather was announced at the end of the week, we decided to sail up to Preveza so that we had plenty of time to get Heron ready for winter.

Preveza

Preveza turned out to be a cozy town. We stayed there for more than a week. Followed life in the new beautiful marina, where the harbor fees were affordable, now that we were out of high season. In the afternoon we cycled out to the nearby beach. Swam and cycled back to Heron on the long town quay. When it became evening we strolled the narrow streets with shops, supermarkets, cafes and a myriad of taverns. 

We slowly rigged Heron off and sailed one last trip. This time into the peculiar large lagoon. When we got back the talented people at Aktio Marina Heron hauled out Heron and we prepared for the winter.

There were still a few days until our plane left. We rented a car and drove up the coast we had sailed down a month and a half earlier.

A few kilometers north of Preveza we visited the abandoned city of Nicopolis.

It had been built by Emperor Augustus after defeating rival Marcus Antonius and his ally, Queen Cleopatra, in a major naval battle in the sea off Preveza.

With over 100.000 inhabitants, the city was the largest city in ancient Greece.

But as its location became less strategic, it had become depopulated and eventually completely abandoned. Later, Preveza was built, whose bustle with a population of only 20.000 gave a sense of how big Nicopolis must have been.

We drove further north to the temple of Necromanteion - one of the many oracles of ancient Greece.

The oracle was considered the gateway to the Kingdom of the dead Hades. Pilgrims made a pilgrimage here and were helped by the priests to talk to the dead, whose souls knew their future.

Many of the Greek mythological figures have visited the oracle.

Among other , Odysseus. He arrives in the chapter 'Journey to the Underworld' and meets his dead mother, who tells him about the dangers that await him before he can return to Itaca.

When we got back from the car journey, it was time to go home.

Sic....

On the day of departure we came out to an almost deserted airport.

Of the 365 days of the year, the Greek air traffic controllers had chosen to strike on exactly our day of departure.

Everyone knew that.

Well, except Kiwi, which apparently only we and a German lady had bought our fligth tickets from.

Together with the German lady we were taken by taxi to the city of Lefkas, where our airline EasyJet had arranged accommodation. Great service. "Strikes are force majeure", Kiwi had carefully explained, when we miraculously managed to get through to them on the phone.

The next morning we were picked up by the taxi and driven back to the small airport, to which our plane arrived on time with a XNUMX-hour delay.

A few hours later we landed at Berlin's Tegel airport. We took a trip into the city center and when we returned, we boarded a SAS plane that flew us home to Copenhagen.

Again we landed before the schedule and went from the half-empty plane to the empty, yes almost a bit gloomy airport.

The 2020 cruise, which had been different in every way, was over.