Bazouki's, Souvlaki's, and Metaxa

Less than 1⅓ miles across the straits from Turkey the Greek island of Samos rises from the depths. The harbour of Pithagorio, named in 1955 after some old Greek mathematician (vague memoeies of my previous life!) looks across the strait. Tavernas replace cafes to line the quay, souvlaki’s replace donners, and Mythos replaces Efes. Life is good.



Samos is a big island, and to make the most of it we teamed up with cruising friends Hugh & Linda, on the US boat Wild Goose, hired a car and took-off to see the island.

High up the mountain above the harbour, the monastery surprised us with a church built deep within a cave. The cave, sinking deep within, was itself linked to a tunnel chiselled through the mountain in 600BC to channel water from a natural reservoir, to serve the ancient town, the old ruins of which, including temples, still preserved between the bricks and reinforced concrete of today.



At this time of year the sun is unrelenting. After March it won’t rain again till November, or perhaps later, yet we were persuaded to visit some waterfalls! The walk reminded me of Madeira. We followed the damp trickle of a stream back up the steeply sided valley. Lush vegetation, pine and cypress trees, enclosed the dusty path. Crossing rickety rustic bridges, we wound our way to the “falls” where rough-hewn planks, crudely nailed together formed an uneven staircase. There, perched high above, overhanging the valley, with a view through to the sea and beyond, was a Taverna, its’ timber structure held together with nothing more than six inch nails.



The friendly owner served up great traditional food; insisted on giving us a taste of the local wine; made us hot homemade herb bread - and more. Friendly banter became warm friendship as he shared with us how, with his son he had built the shack, then insisted that his son drove us all, first up, then down the rough unmade road to the beach – very special and truly memorable lunch.



We thought we had seen it all, and continued our circumnavigation of the island. To our delight, around each bend appeared little fishing villages in secret bays, hidden anchorages, and spectacular views.
As darkness fell, and the traditional music echoed from the tanvernas on the quay, we thought we might just have a beer.

I Must Go Down To The Sea Again......

I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and sky.
I left my vest and socks there.
I wonder if they're dry?
Spike Milligan




Visit ten countries this year. It seemed to be an achievable target when I resolved to do it on New Years’ Eve. After all, 5 days later I was due in Austria for the first ski trip, then Italy for the second, and I was taking my father and brother to Malta at the beginning of March. A yacht delivery from London to the south of France would take in Spain, Portugal, and Gibraltar. Add an invite to visit friends in San Francisco to watch the America’s Cup, and ten countries –no problem.

Then life took a couple of unexpected turns - no Italy, no delivery. No sailing either. Poor Avocette was in for a lean time too, as my wrist meant I couldn’t climb on board, and sorting Dad’s estate took a lot of time.

Slowly I have got back into sailing. A wrist operation failed to “mend it” so now I’m just making do and finding other ways of achieving tasks. Avocette is starting to look good, but is yet to break free of the Solent.

The best form of defence being attack, I leapt at the chance to deliver another boat from Marmaris, in Turkey, to Greece. Dragon Song is a boat I know well. Owned by friends Jim & Trish, I had re-wired the switch panel in 2003 prior to sailing her down to Gibraltar in the Autumn that year.



If you can’t see it – you won’t hit it, was the “advice” I was given on arrival, and in Turkey, it’s pretty much true too. Mountains tumble into sea…and keep-on going down. 40m, 50m, even 60m of chain and the anchor is only 20m in front of the boat, so it’s over the stern and a swim ashore to attach a stern-line, or two, to the rocks. This is mooring Med Style.



The sun is warm first thing. By breakfast temperatures are in the top 20’s and rising. The wind does the same, so it’s early starts. As the temperature rises, so does the wind, to 35⁰C and 25-30kts. Sun overhead, wind on the nose! Great sailing, dramatic scenery, no shipping, topped-off with a cooling dip in crystal clear water, then, at the end of the day…. a well-chilled beer and a BBQ.



We left from Marmaris, and have explored the myriad of coves and bays. Greek Islands rise ruggedly just a few miles off-shore, as close as the Isle of Wight is to Portsmouth.

The ruins of ancient Knidos tumble into the sea a stone’s throw away. It’s amphitheatres, surrounded by the walls and columns of once proud houses, clearly visible on the hillside around the twin harbours. The triremes, like their owners now long gone, replaced by Gulets and visiting yachts.

Next it's Bodrum, to clear-out of Turkey, then Greece………..

A Winters Break

Leaving Avocette swinging gently on her home mooring, I headed off to the airport. As the aircraft was a small Dash-8, I was travelling light, and had left my own skis at home. A short flight was followed by an even shorter transfer up into the mountains.

The small mining town of Schladming, in Austria, home to the Alpine World Ski Championships 2013, was also to be home to us for the first week of January. Christmas had seen big dumps of snow, but the New Year had brought a thaw.



The snow at the top was OK, a bit Spring like - sugary, and I was trying some short skis that turned very quickly. Great fun, a few tumbles - time for a gluhwein.

Now the snow was receding up the mountain - fast! The melt-waters had turned the mountain stream into a maelstrom of raging white water. What we needed a big dump........Hmm!!



I'm very impressed with the Austrian Hospitals! EHIC checked and accepted, an x-ray followed by a CT Scan, and my skiing was over for the week - torn ligaments in my wrist.

Frustratingly,as we drove back to the airport to go home it was snowing hard. Fresh powder everywhere! But it was all too late.



Five weeks later, the cast is cut off, the physio begins, and Avocette needs a scrub, an anti-foul, and polish......... Any volunteers?