Not a good day (Naxos)

 

16th Sept 2020 (Naxos)

Awoke early as the sun came up, our plan today is to leave the bay we’ve over-nighted in on the South of Naxos and beat North to Naxos town.. we have some strong strong winds forecast in the coming week and would like to get to Naoussa (across from Naxos town on Paros) as our bolthole for when the cyclone is due to hit.

Martin and Debs are with us, and probably not experiencing the holiday they’d expected, but possibly one that will give them a few memories and stories to head home with. Our trip North, was, as expected a rolly affair. Big waves (~3m) and gusty winds made it hard going, bucket loads of salty spray thrown in our faces. Thankfully the angle of the wind allowed us to at least have a bit of main little sail out to help us along. Waves and wind crescendoed as we neared the anchorage, with Chez by now feeling a little peaky - (thankfully the guests seem to be fairing well on the seasick front). 

The anchorage is relatively small, but has quite a few constraints to deal with: shallows, rocks, sunken cables, a ferry terminal, lines of buoys and today, a couple of anchored boats slap bang in the middle. After performing a frustrating couple of laps looking for a suitable spot to drop, with frayed tempers, we dropped next to a catamaran. The catamaran's owner gave us a friendly shout and a warning waggle of his finger and pointed to our Nemisis, the massive Blue Star ferry. Sure enough, it bore down upon us maneuvering in what appeared to us to be determined by some sort of random direction generator with its horn blaring away. A windswept, tired, sick, frazzled, and frankly over it Cheryl was unsure what to do, and  I very unceremoniously grabbed her away from the wheel and throttled us hard away back out to the angry sea. Once the ferry had dropped his stern to the quay, we headed back in, to again hunt for the elusive spot where we can anchor amongst the confusion of obstacles. We eventually, after some advice from the finger waggling Captain, opted to drop some way in front of him. The wind didn’t make the anchor drop particularly easy, and far from textbook, but as the wind turned us round, we seemed to be well set. I dived on the anchor, but the bottom was too churned up to be sure, so swam back to the boat without being 100% happy about it.

We turned on the anchor alarm and ‘spagetthi’ ( a track on Navionics that shows where the boat moves) and all relaxed. We’re absolutely knackered, so turned in for a well needed siesta. Not sure how long we all slept, but woke to the anchor alarms raucous siren blaring. I put my head up, and saw the awful site of us having dragged right upon the cat. I immediately started the engine and we tried to get clear by powering away... but it was not to be. Not sure of the exact events of the next few seconds / minutes as it was all pretty frantic, but the up shot was: 

a) our propeller cut through one of the cats bow lines tied to his snubber

b) the same rope wrapped around our prop - thankfully not enough to fully foul it

c) His other bowline caught under our rudder and was held taught by the weight of our boats and the still strong howling wind (which didn’t stop despite Chez asking God nicely)

d) we’re effectively tied together.

Not being able to use my words particularly well at the best of times, I floundered around angrily blustering about and genuinely having no idea how to resolve things - the cat’s owner being nowhere to be seen.

We packed the area where our two boats were being pulled together with a mess of fenders and took turns holding or rearranging as required. I had a couple of dives to see what was what - unusually, didn’t enjoy these dips as much as usual. I eventually came up with a plan to winch ourselves backwards using his boat as leverage to allow sufficient slack on his bowline around the rudder for it to be jumped off (me again in the water bouncing on the line) - to my utter amazement, it actually worked! I slipped on the swim ladder as I excitedly exited the water and put a little gash in my shin, which proceeded to pump the deck with enough blood to give the place an abattoir feel. 

The wind, still not being our friend, conspired to try and push us right back onto the same cat, but luckily Chez was able to power us away from that fate - possibly helped by my useful profanity laden shouts or more likely despite of them. Once again we hunted for a home for our anchor for the night, and eventually settled on a spot the other side of the bay, our previous spot having been snaffled by a single handed German and his dog (Swine + Hund). As we set, the cats owners returned via dingy, I waved them over and shouted that we’d had an ‘issue’ (that covers a multitude of sins) and that I’d accidentally cut his rope. I said we’d be over shortly in the tender to sort things out....and to work out exactly how much our little anchoring faux pas was going to cost us. Chez bandaged up the hole in my leg, and in the absence of a suitable big bandage, I donned rugby socks and went with Chez, heads hung low to face the music. 

The cat owners wife was on the swim step to greet us - I opened with ‘I’m the person who ruined your day’, 

‘Not at all, not at all!’ Was the unexpected soft French accented reply, we were invited aboard, offered drinks and spent the next 15 minutes or so explaining what had happened, and eventually worked our way around to: 

“How do you want to resolve this?” - hoping that it could be a cash payment for the damage rather than involving our insurance companies.. the second unexpected reply of the day came: 

“It’s only a bit of rope, don’t worry about it, it's all good knot tying practice!’

Well, having expected the worst, the couple (him English, she French) were the most gracious and forgiving people we could have hoped to meet. Left quite close to tears (its been a big day) and headed back to Serenity Now, via another catamaran who’d anchored in the ferry's spot - gave them the heads up to move or be blasted, which they heeded. 

Back to the boat, we explained to Martin and Debs what had happened, and advised that their kind offer of a treat dinner ashore would need to wait, as neither Chez or I would be willing or keen to leave the boat for the rest of the night. I took those two ashore in the tender for an explore and some food, and returned to write this - what a day!