We left England in sleet and near-gale at the end of March to drive 1,000 miles from Dunkirk to Ancona, trailing Hronrad on her expensive new trailer. This had become essential when I put her on a weighbridge and the answer was half a ton. (She started life as a Morag, a 15’ clinker built gunter dinghy, and has been made into a good single-handed cruising boat by the addition of mizzen, side-decks, skeg, water ballast and 10’ oars.) The crossing to Igoumenitsa is very expensive for trailers, but so would the long drive via Yugoslavia have been, and time was short for Tony, my husband, who came to help me drive out. To go by Brindisi would have meant an extra 400 miles of road and Italian priced petrol.

I sailed away from Igoumenitsa beach on 8th April to make the discovery that progress in these waters is at the average speed of 1½ knots. When there is any wind it is usually f1 against — enough to impede progress under oars — or too blustery for sailing. It’s really rather like lake sailing.

My first anchorage was in Igoumenitsa Creek, a long inlet with many little side bays just to the north of Igoumenitsa Bay. There a local goatherd insisted on showing me the best view, and his sheds with small cows, goats and young kids and nursery patch of young olives.

Then I spent a long day in rowing and trying to tack in light airs to Petriti on Corfu. This would be the best time to visit Corfu, when the season for visitors has not started, but the weather is warm by English standards. I saw no other sailing boats until I reached the Sivota Islands to which I crossed on the following day, and then two of a flotilla appeared, manned, I think, by flotilla leaders getting ready for the season.

From Sivota I went on to Paxos after a few days spent sheltering from a blow. As I neared the landlocked bay of Lakka I had difficulty in distinguishing the anchorage, then I anchored near a sandy beach and went ashore in my toy inflatable. I had not yet acquired the Mediterranean habit of running the boat nose-on to the beach with a line ashore and an anchor astern. Lakka is like a toy town: everyone was very busy colour-washing the houses.

Then I went on, mostly under oars, to the island capital of Gaios. Here there were one or two large cruising yachts. A spell of bad weather had me up in the night fending off from the quay when my stern anchor dragged. I thought the fine weather had returned when the barometer was absolutely steady, and set off to sail on to Parga on the mainland. As I neared the coast in a good quartering wind the sea turned green and thunder clouds built up. Luckily I was only a mile from the harbour mole of Valtou when the squall struck. With all sail hastily stowed I managed to row against it into shelter. You never know what you can row against until you just have to manage it.

Parga is a picture postcard town on a headland. That day it was like a waterfall. On the shore of Valtou Bay I saw one of the very few cruising dinghies I encountered in Greece — a German Kim Boat — a glassfibre 16 footer with a cuddy. Apart from this the smallest boat I saw was a Leisure 17, also laid-up, other than the Wayfarers and Wanderers of the sailing holiday centres. I met no other dinghy cruising people at all.

South of Parga was the only stretch of exposed coast of the trip. For 25 miles there is no secure shelter. To make as much progress as possible I rowed past the dubious shelter of the bay of Acheron and kept going for 15 miles to the only kink in the coastline at Kastrosikia. To my relief I found there a shallow, enclosed harbour and a fisherman showed me where to anchor. This left only 10 miles to go to Preveza, the entrance to the Gulf of Ambrakis, where there are tidal currents to be considered. Luckily I had accidentally timed this right and anchored behind a sandy spit to the south of Preveza. This was where the sea battle of Actium was fought when Cleopatra ran away and Octavian Caesar defeated Antony. There was a steady, fresh wind blowing into the gulf. I did not stay to explore; it would repay a longer visit.

I pressed on to get through the Levkas Canal. I thought I had got onto the wrong side of the spit, to the east of the approach channel, but was relieved when a bearing showed that I could see the spit to the west of it, much more extensive than it appears on the chart. I waited as instructed for the two chain ferries to lower their cables and then rowed through the canal. The wind strengthened, fortunately from the north. I emerged into the Inland Sea, a place which sailing people there call ‘Paradise’. It is rather like what the west coast of Scotland would be if the weather was fine for six months of the year.

I went on to Nidri. This is where Falcon Sailing has a fleet of Wayfarers and Toppers for sailing holidays. They were looking after my trailer for me. Nidri was built in its present form after the earthquake of 1953, and is growing as you look at it. It is not a pretty place, though its setting on a sheltered bay with offshore islands and the mountains of Levkas behind is magnificent. It retains its village friendliness, and Tranquil Bay, close by, is where many cruising boats come to rest for weeks on end.

Nidri is the best place for stores in the area, and I had arranged for my letters to be sent there. In Tranquil Bay there is a well where the good water never fails. In Nidri one finds the sailing people gossiping away the days at Nick the Greek’s Taverna. You pay according to the size of your boat. There I met Andrei, who had spent the previous two summers sailing his 20 footer out from Norway, and Eva and Sturrer who came from Sweden in their converted canal tug. They now have a permanent mooring here.

My timetable was to press on to Ithaca to meet people who were coming out on holiday there, and to return to Nidri to pick up a couple who were to spend their school Whitsun break with me. I went south through the Meganisi Channel past the limestone cliffs of the southern corner of Levkas Island to Sivota Bay, an almost totally enclosed inlet with a string of tavernas on the shore, but no village. The crossing to Ithaca was an 8 mile row past the inaccessible Arkoudi Island, which it seemed to take forever to pass.

When I reached the northern bays on the east coast of Ithaca the wind got up. I would have expected a sheltered sail into Frikes but fierce down-draughts attacked me at every headland. Frikes had not woken up for the season. I spent two days there looking for the Palace of Odysseus and then went on to Dexia Bay where he is supposed to have been put ashore. Now it is quite a popular bathing beach. Then I went into Port Vathi to meet my friends and here the weather became blustery again. Locals told me I should move into the shelter of the harbour itself, so I rowed there against the wind and had to report to the harbour official. Only with some difficulty could he understand the note on my passport, which was all of my ship’s papers, but when he grasped that I had brought the boat on a trailer there was no more fuss. I went through no other formalities than this at any other port of the cruise. I did have a Small Ships Register certificate, but they did not seem interested in it.

I rowed out of Port Vathi two days later and reached the northern end of Ithaca by early afternoon. There were still 8 miles to go and I was glad when a wind sprang up from the west. The sea was quite rough but I kept full sail and had a fast trip back to Sivota. It was very bad for my centreboard seams which had just about taken-up. They had to be recaulked and plastered with Seelastik.

I returned to Nidri and then went across to Meganisi. Here there is the perfect coast for an idle summer. The convoluted coastline gives 5 miles of sheltered coves and there are three unspoilt villages. To get there you go either north of Scropio through the bay, where there are mooring buoys which were put there for Onassis’s yacht, or south of it where this private island now has a beach where landing is tolerated. I went first to Spiglia Bay where there is a ferry landing and a quay. I went up to the pleasant looking beach at the head of the bay, but spent half an hour clearing it of plastic rubbish which had drifted ashore. The next day I went on to Abelike Bay. Here an English couple runs a beach holiday place with Wanderers to sail, water skiing, parakiting, a bar and restaurant and, above all, showers. They spoil the peace, but there are plenty of other bays and their friendliness attracts even those who fear the encroachment of such amenities. During the following week I brought my visitors out here and to the other nearby bays. I had two galley slaves to row the boat, and boards across the thwarts enabled three of us to sleep aboard comfortably under the boom tent. While they were with me I relaxed my ‘never-eat-ashore’ rule and we sampled tavernas in Vathi and Spartahori.

After they had gone I went back to Abelike Bay and then set out for Kalamos. I rowed for several miles hoping to go round the south end to Port Leone, but when a wind came it was dead against me, set up a jobble on the sea, and was too light to make much progress tacking. I ran north round the northern end of Kalamos, through the mile wide channel off Mytika. Winds there were confused but I eventually reached Kalamos town. I landed at the beach where the fishing boats moor and spent two days there.

Then I went on to Kastos where I went in amongst the yachts at the quay. This resulted in friendly encounters with three cruisers and I had a meal at the taverna with the crew of one of them. They were enjoying their three days of free sailing away from the flotilla with which they were cruising.

Next I had a long row to Cape Turkovelda and round it against the wind into Marathia Bay. This is an anchorage from which one can easily reach the Dragonera Islands, but first I went on to Astakos to stock up with food. It is not a very good anchorage, fairly exposed on a rather uninteresting seafront. The town behind is more attractive. It apparently has little foreign tourist trade and no one speaks English, as so many Greeks do in places where tourists are common. There I met a boat from home, Blue Moon of Sky, sailed out from West Kirby by her single-handed owner. He told me of a perfect anchorage in the deep bay of Pandeleimona on the south shore of the Gulf of Astakos. I went there next day — 3 hours for 3 miles — and moored near him, We talked about the Dee which he knows even better than I do.

I went south from there to explore the lonely coast on the way to the Gulf of Patras. I sailed out to Shag Rock at the north end of Petali and then into Plateali Bay to anchor in its southern arm by the deserted farm there. In Plateali many freighters are laid-up. Just across the narrow isthmus is Komaros Bay, a very good anchorage but now quite useless as it is blocked by freighters. Then I sailed along the west coast of Petali and round to the Cave, which can be reached by scrambling up from an anchorage close beside the rocky shore. I did not stay the night in this rather inhospitable looking spot, but ran across to Ouvria Bay. Here I was behind a flat islet occupied by fishermen’s huts, and with stakes for nets around it. I was in a foot of water and several feet of mud — quite like home.

I had no fresh bread left and when the next day turned out to be squally I decided to head back north, against the wind. I negotiated fierce down-draughts along Petali Island and had a tough tack through the Dragoneras, where I had to heave-to in the entrance to the unsheltered creek of Vathi Vali to pump out the water which had entered through my working centreboard seams. I went on to Marathia Bay for the night and then spent a last day in the area sailing among the Dragoneras. I landed at the very beautiful little bay which is the nearest thing to a sheltered anchorage on Dragonera Island, the largest of this uninhabited group.

Then I went back to Kastos where I met Blue Moon again, and next day rowed round the southern ends of Kastos and Kalamos and across to Meganisi. It was very hot that day and I was glad when a breeze sprang up to blow me the last two miles.

After this I had several weeks of perfect weather; hot, that is, and good for lazy days rather than for long rows. I revisited Kalamos and went into Port Leone, the famous ‘Deserted Village’. Unfortunately people from barbeque parties have stowed their rubbish in its ruined houses, creating a stink and a health risk. I went along to a more open beach further round the bay which I shared with Twilight, a splendid old Falmouth Quay Punt whose owner I had met at Tranquil Bay. On another occasion I was driven out from Thilia Island in the Meganisi Strait, again by a barbeque party. By late July all the beaches were accessible to campers in powerful inflatable speedboats.

In August my friend Mary came out from home and we had intended to go to Ithaca and Cephallonia. However, on the way to Sivota in lumpy, confused sea, the port chainplate pulled out. I decided to avoid rough water with my makeshift repair and we ran back to Thilia. This time it was free from other boats and we felt like two elderly Swallows and Amazons on our own little island.

By the time my son, Jan, came out to trail the boat home, with Mary’s help, the worst of the crowds were gone. We had a peaceful two days on Meganisi and he actually had a sailing breeze for the return to Nidri. I would recommend September as a good month for a holiday in the Ionian, or late June. It is then relatively unspoilt by tourism and the weather is good. If you have three weeks’ holiday and don’t think £500 too much to spend on the journey, it is well worth trailing your boat out. A very light boat would be at an advantage, able to beach just about anywhere. Or you could take an outboard to bring everywhere within easy reach — but would that not be too easy for dinghy cruisers?