Red Knot is an 18 foot Sandpiper, gunter rig, drop keel & cabin

Friday, September 4th — Lefkas Canal, Ligia

What a day! Red Knot was hoisted into the air and put in the water. Soon we were heading south. We motored to Lefkas against a head wind — about two and a half hours — a very hidden entrance to the canal.

The bridge or ferry opens every hour on the hour to let the boat traffic pass in both directions. It was a matter of pulling up to the wall and waiting for the exact moment. Joan said “Put the engine in slow.” It promptly stopped. Panic, but fortunately no other shipping. We got it started a couple of times but it died immediately. After a while the wind and the current were driving us back to the shingle beach. We threw the anchor out. After many exhausting tries we decided I should walk to town to find Joe Charlton Services. It was an excruciating two mile drag, in blazing sun, with traffic whizzing past. I’d lost my touch or my nerve in getting lifts. I didn’t even raise my thumb. The high point of the journey was a traditional boat being restored, that looked exactly like a child’s dream of Noah’s ark and just as I passed, a single dog appeared on the deck. When I found the place, it was shut up. I was told someone would turn up in five minutes so I waited and had a conversation with an Irishman and his family.

Joe’s mechanic arrived on his moped. I told him our tale of woe. His answers, in a nut shell, were: not able to help; they did not do outboards; they had set charges, call-out fee £14; main yacht services for insurance company; we would have to go to another firm; might be shut till Monday; it would be cheaper to pay Greek prices. In the end he softened, perhaps taking pity on my age and fatigue. He sent me to a cafe and went on his moped to see what the trouble was back at the boat. He arrived back to say he had fixed it. It was not our incompetence. The boatyard had not screwed on the carburettor properly. He would not take any money as he said he had finished work. I took a taxi back to the boat. The drama of the day was not quite over yet. The engine started, but we still had to wait at the bridge and I did not dare slow down in case it cut out. The wind caught us and drove us across the channel as we circled. I managed to bump into the wall and crash into the side of the bridge — a horrid frightening sound. At last into the canal and motoring past Lefkas, weaving between very vague buoys out into the sea, to moor up for the night at Ligia just before dark. Ate well at a waterside taverna.

Saturday, September 5th — Sivota

The discovery that I can sleep on deck on my new mat under the stars is delightful. It is cool and unclaustrophobic.

I was dreading not being able to start the engine, but it went after about the third try. We motored down into the Inland Sea past Nidri, through the strait between Lefkas and Meganisi. At some point the engine stopped and Joan said I must not have filled it fully. It is rather difficult to fill up, bouncing about at sea, hanging out the back. It really needs a safety line on.

We rounded the corner and found this charming deep bay where the flotilla fleets come in. Sivota. It is well provided for with tavernas, supermarkets and showers, but apparently no native village. We ate a very cheap meal and retired to bed while the flotilla sailors celebrated on either side of the bay.

Monday, September 7th — Fiskardo, Kefalonia

Weather clear, bright, soft wind. Left Sivota at 7.30. Engine behaving well. Joan tried the jib but we went on motoring into a headwind. Followed the Lefkas coast for some time and then made towards Ithica. From the headlands there we turned towards the shelter of Fiskardo harbour and dropped anchor on the side opposite the town. It was a bit of a shamozzle putting down the stern anchor from the dinghy. A neighbouring yachty rushed on deck to say that I had put it on his line and that he would pull it out when he left. So with great precision, looking down into the clear water, I relaid it clear of everybody. There we lay snugly for the next two nights, or so we thought.

Tuesday, September 8th — Fiskardo, Kefalonia

The wind was still too strong. Dreams of reaching Ithica, which appeared only a stride away across the straits, were fast receding. The flotilla fleets were in and every berth was occupied on the quayside, but this should not have bothered us as we were anchored on the other side of the bay. Gradually late-corners moored parallel to us, but there was still plenty of sea room. A huge 40-50ft yacht came in late. It made an awful hash of putting down its anchor, which was very definitely over our line. It then tried to moor parallel to us. It lost its dinghy in the confusion. We offered to fetch it but someone swam out for it. Next they got into difficulties with their landline. We retired to bed.

Wednesday, September 9th — Abelaki Bay, Meganisi

Rain falling on my face woke me. The sea was so rough everything was banging. I retired to the cabin but could not sleep. Looking out at about 5.30 I could see the outline of this very big boat horribly close to us. I woke Joan. “The next boat is only about six foot away — five foot. It’s very near indeed!” Crew were out on her decks, putting out fenders. Our tiddly little fenders would have done no good. In the end it was a hands off job. The boat (we never did get her name) decided to leave. Engines full ahead they roared out snatching our main anchor and dragging it across the line of the boat the other side before it disappeared into the darkness.

By this time we were blown towards the other boat, the Puffin Maris, a Sunsail flotilla yacht. We were quite helpless and again fenders were out. The flotilla skipper came out in his rubber dinghy and told Joan he was going to cut our bow anchor warp. She managed to stop him doing that but the next moment someone had cut her stern anchor free, leaving it and half its line on the bottom. Our engine would not drive us in spite of starting first pull, so we got pushed across the harbour, to be sandwiched between other boats at the quay. Safe, but where was our anchor? Joan set about replacing the sheer-pin in the engine, with the help of two men. I went along to throw away the rubbish and have some coffee. We waited and waited for news of our anchor. At last Sunsail confessed they had just thrown the warp back in the sea, unmarked or buoyed. On the boat adjacent to us was a Swiss gentleman, Peter and his young partner Corrine. He suggested he should go and snorkel for it. We did not think for one minute that he would find it or be able to reach it, but he did both and tied a piece of drift wood to mark it. They then towed us out, retrieved the anchor and set us on our way. Lovely man!

We decided not to go to Ithica as the wind having died a little, we felt we should be taking advantage of the comparative calm before the weather changed its mind again. We headed for the more sheltered waters and anchorages of Meganisi and the Inland Sea. Joan put up the jib for a while until the wind twisted once more. It took us 4 hrs to motor round to Abelaki Bay.

What an adventure! And weren’t we pleased to anchor in this secluded beautiful spot with a friendly taverna run by Martin and Sue.

Saturday, September 12th — Lefkas Harbour

Having paid our debt of gratitude, with thanks and a drink, to Peter and Corrine, we needed to be back in Lefkas before Joe Charlton’s office closed, to leave a drink for the man who sorted out our outboard. It meant making an early start. The morning was calm. We made good progress across the Inland Sea to the canal mouth. The canal begins with good official buoys and then deteriorates to a narrow zigzag bounded by rocks and mud, marked only by faded triangles, rusty poles and the occasional jolly orange buoy. Since it is such a busy waterway and there are no signs of spectacular wrecks, one presumes everyone negotiates it unscathed, but it was a little hair-raising. We got in and found a berth, bows on, in Lefkas Harbour. The office was still open and we found a girl who could speak good English. She identified our saviour as ‘Bob’ and we left a bottle. The wind had been increasing all day. By the evening it was blowing hard and since we wanted to cross to Preveza in the morning it was causing Joan some anxiety.

Sunday, September 13th — Lefkas Harbour

Giant storm in the night. Thunder, lightning, wind, boats going up and down. I was trying to sleep in the cockpit. I pulled my bivvy bag up over my head, leaving only the smallest air gap, but the rain streamed over the mattress and flowed in torrents through the split. The sleeping bag soaked up the moisture greedily. I would have remained there, wringing wet but still warm if I had not put my hand down into the well and found it full of water, threatening to overflow into the cabin, It was time for serious bailing with a bucket. Having got that done my nightie was clinging like a wet T shirt. I got dressed and bedded down in the cabin.

More dramas: the yacht next but one to us was in trouble, dragging anchor or something. A man appeared with a tin-bath dinghy, launched between our boat and the next — no security measures — manhandled himself around, sorted out the trouble, came back, secured us to the next boat which was well moored with buoys and landlines and disappeared in the night leaving the bathtub on the quay. He did not utter a word and we never saw him again. We slept damp till morning. No one would give us the weather forecast that we needed to give us confidence to cross the next gulf. It was at least a two hour crossing and could be very rough. A flotilla skipper came along and said there was a four metre swell out there, so Joan decided not to go. Just as well; the sheer pin had gone again. The engine obviously does not like being rattled about in a storm. We should have raised it out of the water.

Anyway I towed her stern first into the wall with the dinghy under the engine. A man on the quay helped to change the pin under Joan’s direction. We were resigned to staying and were quietly moored without any anxieties. Lunched in town on the waterfront. After lunch I fixed up my sheet on the boat as a shade. We read and snoozed the afternoon away. In the evening, down a narrow alley, we found a very basic family taverna. The tables crammed the path between the houses. No menu. We were shown into the kitchen, which was full of smoke, to choose our meal straight off the stove. Both of us had moussaka. I think that was all there was on offer but a good one — family made. The cost of the meal was £2 per head with wine.

Monday, September 14th — Cleoptra Marina

This was the day we more or less had to make the crossing if we were to spend time putting the boat to rights for the winter. We woke before dawn — of course no weather forecast, but wind right down. Engine started after three or four pulls; crept down the canal for the dreaded swing-bridge. It opens on the hour, every hour. We expected rubber tyres to tie up to while waiting for the right moment, but there were none, only a horrid concrete wall with rocks at the bottom. Because of the wind we kept being blown nearer the bridge and bumping. In the end Joan said we should circle. She was in two minds about going through. In fact, she had a ‘Plan-B’ which was to leave the boat at Lefkas for the winter. She liked the idea of Joe Charlton’s yard because they can speak English. However we fell in behind a huge German yacht which was advancing towards the bridge. We sneaked past and shot through avoiding a yacht coming in the opposite direction. The whole thing is chaotic down there.

Out in the open sea we met the swell which was quite high. The wind was strengthening by the minute. We put out the jib and ran along quite sweetly except the cross swell made it very hard work to hold a course. We needed to refuel and I put a safety line on. Hanging out over the stern with the sea coming up to meet you, holding a funnel in one hand and a petrol can in the other, it was not easy. Joan turned into the swell and jammed herself across my legs. I had not realised how strong she was. After that was over we returned on course.

The headlands and distance were confusing and looking up over our shoulders we could see the most enormous, deepest purple and black cloud. It was a race against the inevitable hooley. In hindsight we knew we should not have cut the corner, but there was tempting still water close in, Suddenly, in front of us, there was spray blowing off the surface of the sea and then the crunch. The engine stopped. Joan turned the boat and sailed it off the hidden rocks on the jib. I fought, unsuccessfully, to get the engine started. I just did not have the strength or the knack to do it. We had touched on rocks off Cape Skilla (the Scilla of the Odyssey according to Tim Severin). We made for the now marked channel. Sailing past moored shipping and yachts. Now a huge ferry took our wind. Looking for a convenient buoy, we had very little steerage now. Dropped the forward anchor and swung round. “We’re not holding.” Dropped the stern anchor. It was on the warp that had been cut. The bowlines had held us in Lefkas, but in the rush we did not check them. I climbed into the dinghy with the intention of taking a line to a buoy and began rowing round to reach it. I lost the line. Joan said to row for help. Well in the end Thomasifis came out with his little tender and outboard. Joan had got a line aboard a neighbouring yacht, I felt helpless watching Red Knot plunging up and down with Joan alone aboard. I knew she was tied on but hoped she was holding on. When Thomasifis got back he expressed his admiration; “You are not young. I never seen anything like it — no engine — sailing in big sea. I never would have believed it.” Well in the end, the only casualties were one half anchor warp, one anchor and one smashed keel. Thomasifis will mend the keel.

The delights of the holiday seem somehow to have got lost in the practicalities of the events. At Abelaki we had the pleasure of sighting a kingfisher. It was early in the morning, before people had begun moving about on the boats. We had been primed that it was a possibility. This brilliant streak of colour went from one side of our bay to a dark bush not far from Red Knot. It stayed for sometime, a jewel shining out. On another occasion we watched a buzzard that rested on the tip of a tall cypress tree. The local crows tried to drive him off, but he maintained his position. Later we could hear the buzzard cry and there were two of them circling the sky, doing an aerial display. An extraordinary flower, shaped like the spear of a lupin, but with little flowerlets like stars, was very common. It had no leaves, just a large bulb. Bougainvillaea and Hibiscus prettified gardens. Gorgeous Morning Glory rampaged over derelict land. Exchanges with people, both native and visitors made for constant entertainment.

What a lovely holiday; full of interest, sights, sunshine, the unexpected. If it is possible I cannot wait to go again next year.