Turtles and Tempests (Koroni)

 

Having left AntiKythera shortly before dawn, we made our way to the town of Koroni on the Southern tip of the Peloponese. It was a long day of motor sailing that had us still a good two or three hours from Koroni as the sun set behind it. 

Coming in in the dark was an interesting experience, trying to reconcile the confusion of lights on shore, and the various hues of the silhouetted land. With growing trepidation we eventually made it to the harbour entrance at around 11pm (we’ve been here before so know the layout). Thankfully the still open restaurants and bars lining the water front gave sufficient light for us to see the other two yachts in the bay, and the small fleet of one man fishing boats tucked in one corner. Our anchor dropped and set on the first attempt, which given the mixed weed/sand bottom, was more by luck than judgement. Once settled, we sat outside in the cabin for a while listening to the gentle hubbub from the restaurant patrons. There’s still a curfew and post Covid lockdown rule in place that music is not allowed in bars - sad news for some, but from our perspective, its going to make for a peaceful nights sleep, and the twinkling lights of shore and the gentle ripple of conversation coming across the water to us makes a delightful way to welcome us back to this little town.

Well rested the next morning, we breakfasted on waffles nectarines and syrup up on deck and took in the wonderful vista laid out before us. The town is made up of perhaps three or four tiers of light pastel coloured shuttered houses with terracotta tiled roofs. Overlooking this is the obligatory crumbling Venetian castle skirting the low cliffs that look out to the sea beyond. Amongst the orange roofs rise two churches, one of which chimes the hours and dings for the half hours day and night.

After breakfast we take the tender and our collection of diesel containers ashore in search of fuel. The petrol station is not far, and further good views of the town present themselves as we follow the road higher to get there. Fully laden with 7 Jerry cans of  fuel we retrace our steps and load up the tender for the return to the boat. As I row us back, we are joined by a curious loggerhead turtle, who delights us by doing laps of the tender at a meter or so away for a couple of minutes as I paddle around and Chez takes some video. I suspect it may have thought I was it’s mum (my graceful rowing style mimics a turtles gentle skulling perfectly :)

Back on board, lunched and siesta-ed we then took the tender back into town for a late afternoon stroll around. I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve been locked up for so long and not seen much, or whether the town really was a alluring as it seemed, but walking the streets, we both had beaming grins. We enjoyed taking in the charming paint chipped and crumbling facades of the buildings, the warm nods from the locals and the numerous swallows that swooped around the quayside sky ferrying little morsels back to the waiting mouths in their nests. 

The next day - today as I wrote this - we’re heading up to Methoni. We set off at around 10am in light wind, but enough to put the sails up and glide along without the need, or the noise of the engine. After an hour or so the wind slowly but surely fades, and we slow to a snails pace. That’s fine, we’re in no hurry, Methoni being only a short 2 or 3 hours up the coast. 

The sails are barely flapping by this stage, but we’re coming up to a headland that promises some breeze (we can see darker water and white horses that bode well for sailing) 

At one point, the boat actually appears to be going backwards, we umm and ahh about putting the engine on, but agree that the wind should be with us soon, so decide to wait 5 or 10 mins to see if it picks up. 

....10 minutes later, things could not be more different, the ‘breeze’ we’d seen coming turned out to be, perhaps not quite a full blown tempest, but enough that we heeled sufficiently to dip our deck rail and the base of the sails in the water. What followed was an hour of frantic activity to react to the fierce and changing wind and sea state. After much pulling of lines, a few raised voices and a smattering of swearing, we decided that the sails needed to go away for a while. 

On reflection we were both surprised at how rapidly the wind and sea had changed, and have once again learned a few lessons. It’s also re-enforced one that we already knew but didn’t adhere to : ‘Reef early’! ... we didn’t, and because of that we had a fight on our hands to reduce sail in strong wind.