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sawylToday's destination: Kalamos. Sailed close hauled for an hour before the wind died completely and we opted to start the engine. The wind picked up again again as we passed Meganisi and started sailing again. We ran down the channel between Kastos and Kalamos, at one point attempting to gybe the genoa when we should actually have been attempting to gybe the main (we'd goosed the genny). The wind gradually headed round and eventually we ended up broad reaching in to the port.
As we approached, I suddenly remembered the last time I'd been here, well over a decade ago. Then, the weather was appalling, the mooring had been difficult (we had an unreliable engine that would die at key moments) and, once we finally got in, an incompetitant bunch of Germans came in and tried to drop their anchor over ours, prompting pater to go and stand in the bows, from where he poured an impressively varied stream of invective on them until they go the message. The town was semi-derelict, with a small local population, including a old woman who lived just up the hill from the quay and who hadn't been down from the level of her house for the last twenty years. This time, things were very different. The quay had been significantly expanded, there was a large taverna run by a guy called George who encouraged yatchies to visit by helping out with moorings in order to generate obligations, and the town as a whole seemed to positively humming with life.
We headed out to find the beach, ten or fifteen minute walk from the town through some seriously spectacular scenery. Once we got back, we discovered that the port was completely packed with flotillas: OCC, Sunny Sailing and Sunsail had all chosen today to pay a visit.
Went to George's for dinner, where pater and I thought the food was ok but not spectacular, but mater raved about the lamb shank and assured us it was the best thing ever. Part way through the evening, an enormous crowd of Dutch people from the eight Sunny Sailing boats turned up, causing one of the waiters (a boaty from Yorkshire) to throw a strop. The parents went on to a cafe for coffee, while I decided to retire to the boat, listen to the guy in the lead Sunny Sailing boat next door listening to Pink Floyd, and head to bed early.
As we approached, I suddenly remembered the last time I'd been here, well over a decade ago. Then, the weather was appalling, the mooring had been difficult (we had an unreliable engine that would die at key moments) and, once we finally got in, an incompetitant bunch of Germans came in and tried to drop their anchor over ours, prompting pater to go and stand in the bows, from where he poured an impressively varied stream of invective on them until they go the message. The town was semi-derelict, with a small local population, including a old woman who lived just up the hill from the quay and who hadn't been down from the level of her house for the last twenty years. This time, things were very different. The quay had been significantly expanded, there was a large taverna run by a guy called George who encouraged yatchies to visit by helping out with moorings in order to generate obligations, and the town as a whole seemed to positively humming with life.
We headed out to find the beach, ten or fifteen minute walk from the town through some seriously spectacular scenery. Once we got back, we discovered that the port was completely packed with flotillas: OCC, Sunny Sailing and Sunsail had all chosen today to pay a visit.
Went to George's for dinner, where pater and I thought the food was ok but not spectacular, but mater raved about the lamb shank and assured us it was the best thing ever. Part way through the evening, an enormous crowd of Dutch people from the eight Sunny Sailing boats turned up, causing one of the waiters (a boaty from Yorkshire) to throw a strop. The parents went on to a cafe for coffee, while I decided to retire to the boat, listen to the guy in the lead Sunny Sailing boat next door listening to Pink Floyd, and head to bed early.
