Although most sailors use a Pilot Guide
(otherwise known as a Lonely Planet Guide for sailors) to give them information
about harbours, marinas and potential anchorages, one of our favourite
activities has been finding our own special spots. We are also in constant
touch through Facebook and email with fellow yachties and have shared some
great anchoring spots in this way as well.
We have been fortunate so far this season,
to have discovered anchorages with pristine aqua waters, sandy bottoms (great
holding for the anchor as well as good visibility) and few boats. Inevitably, as we found last year, there are
many more boats during the day, but as the afternoon lengthens and evening
descends, the vast majority depart for their home ports and few boats remain
overnight.
Yachties, unlike some campers, are generally
a quiet bunch and we have been lucky to avoid boats with ‘doof doof’ music, and
rowdy party animals. Sometimes
day-tripper boats do come into our quiet anchorages but they rarely stay more
than a couple of hours.
We have found the Ionian Islands, and
particularly the “Inland Sea” as it is sometimes known, to be perfect for
hundreds if not thousands of little coves and bays in which to escape. The “Inland Sea” is so-called due to the
geography of mainland Greece and the island of Levkas practically being joined
at the north end and then the string of islands including Meganisi, Cephalonia,
Ithaca and Zykanthos creating a barrier to the greater Ionian Sea. This means that the waters are usually flat
to only slightly choppy, even in fairly strong winds, and that the winds are
slightly moderated from the forces generated out in the middle of the Ionian
Sea between Greece and Italy. It really
does make for pleasurable sailing!
The Ionian is generally cooler than the
Aegean, and there is not the plethora of sandy beaches, white-washed houses and
millions of tiny islands found in the Aegean Sea, however, the Ionian Sea also
has its own beauty. We have found
beautiful clear waters, some lovely pebble beaches (in spite of the fact that
the sea bottom is sand all the way to the water’s edge!) and the people are
friendly and extremely polite. Almost
every village and town has grocery shops, fruit and veggie shops, meat shops
(called “meat markets” here which makes us chuckle), fish shops and of course
the tavernas and restaurants. There is
no lack of places to eat and/or provision.
Each island has its own unique reasons for visiting – from spectacular
views, historical sites, geographical anomalies or even shipwrecks.
Last week we visited the north-western
coast of Zykanthos to see ‘Wreck Bay’ where a rusting hulk sits calmly on the
white sand at the base of huge cliffs.
No one seems to know if it was deliberately wrecked or if it was an
accident, but when you see the size of the bay, and the number of cliffs that
surround it, you have to wonder at the ‘luck’ with which it was pushed ashore
at the only beach for several miles in either direction!
On the way back to Cephalonia, after having
spent a couple of hours walking around the wreck and swimming in the blue
waters, I was startled from my blog-writing to hear the spinning of my
rod. Those of you who have been
following my blog since the beginning, would understand the significance of
that sound – I have been trawling the oceans since departing from La Rochelle
last June, and in spite of consulting many fishing shop owners, fellow
yachties, and anyone that has ever caught a fish in this area, buying multiple
lures and basically trying everything, I have never even had a nibble. And now here it was, at about 10:30am on a
sunny day, with flat seas and motoring across a deep channel between Ionian
islands and my reel was spinning like crazy.
Yelling “strike” to Tad at the helm and telling him to stop the boat, I jumped
to my feet and began reeling in what I hoped would be a fish! Meanwhile, our guests at the time, Vivienne
and Peter came rushing back to the stern from their relaxing nap on the
trampoline to assist. Fortunately, Peter has had some experience with this sort
of fishing and he advised me all the way to hauling in a beautiful tuna. It was with mixed feelings that I pulled the
fish aboard as it was really a lovely creature – silvery-smooth with big black
eyes. There was no time to waste as the
fish was gaffed, tequila poured down its throat (yes, apparently that’s what
you do to ‘stun’ the fish as we had nothing to bash its head with), and the
butchering began. I hadn’t realised
there would be so much blood from the tuna and the back deck was awash with
fish blood and bits of flesh. The next
realization was that we did not have a decent knife with which to cut the meat! Tad’s old fish-filleting knife was okay, but
it took our serrated bread knife plus a sharpened fish knife to get the job
done in the end. Peter and Vivienne did
a remarkable job cutting the tuna into steaks and then several strips of
‘sashimi’ meat for later consumption. I
took the meat and cleaned and wrapped it – some for dinner later and some for
the freezer. Tad took the helm once
again (after having videoed and taken photos of the whole exercise) and off we
set to Cephalonia! Such excitement! My
first fish caught on Bisou but hopefully not the last!
Once we reached Argostoli, a couple of days
later, one of my first stops was to a fishing store to buy a good-sized fish
knife as well as some metal leaders (I caught the tuna on a nylon line and was
very lucky it didn’t bite through). Tad
also wanted to buy a baseball bat (for clubbing future fish and potential
intruders) but we didn’t see a sporting goods store and I am not sure that
Greece is the place to purchase a baseball bat in any case!
Robin with her tuna (Peter is helping her hold it up)
Wreck Bay in Zakynthos
Bisou from her anchorage on Ithaca
Needless to say, the fresh-caught fish
grilled on our BBQ that evening, accompanied by some thinly-sliced sashimi was
absolutely delicious. There is something quite amazing about eating fish so
fresh and also having done the work ourselves.
Very satisfying in every way.
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