The Louis Vuitton Pacific Series

Posted on February 15, 2009 by George Backhus

Just another Saturday on Auckland’s Waitemata Harbour.  We had finished race three of the annual Classic Yacht Regatta on the Stewart 34 Princess and were heading back to Westhaven from the finish line out in the Motukorea Channel.  We passed the Rangitoto Channel just in time to catch race four of the Louis Vuitton Pacific series finals.  Emirates Team New Zealand were ahead 2-1 in a best of five series against the Swiss team, Alinghi.  Reaching back and forth along the south side of the course set between Takapuna Beach and Rangitoto Island, we had a good view of the action.  The Kiwis got a good start and jumped into an early lead as the breeze freshend into the mid 20 knot rage.  They would remain ahead throughout the race to beat the Swiss team (who, by the way, are mostly Kiwis) in what is being called “America’s Cup Light.”

Emiriates Team New Zealand crossing the finish line in race four to win the series.

This capped off 15 days of great racing amongst ten international teams in America’s Cup Class yachts here in Auckland.

Now, if we could just get the real America’s Cup out of the court room and back on to the race course. . .

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The Mighty Stewart 34

Posted on February 7, 2009 by George Backhus

In 1958 R. L. “Bob” Stewart was commissioned by Peter Colmore-Williams to design a fast 34-foot racing yacht that could double as a comfortable family cruiser.  The yacht Patiki was an instant success on the race course, thrashing her competition and drawing the immediate attention of Auckland’s top racing sailors.  Cruising sailors were also impressed by the design, attracted by affordability, seaworthiness, spaciousness and excellent sailing characteristics.  During the 60’s and 70’s boatbuilders as well as “do-it-yourselfers” began building more Patikis in sheds, boatyards and back yards all over New Zealand.

Within a few years, the ever-expanding fleet of Patikis began to dominate the Auckland racing scene.  Their spirited owners eventually looked to further raise the bar.  They longed for a different type of racing competition-one based solely upon sailing skills and tactics, and not on an individual yacht’s design advantage.  Eventually the Stewart 34, as it came to be known, became the first one design keel boat class to be granted their own separate racing division by the Royal New Zealand Yacht Squadron.  

In order to hone their skills and promote the growing Stewart 34 class, the keen owners continued to seek greater competitive challenges.  They struggled against New Zealand’s staid yachting traditions in order to introduce sponsorship into the sport of keelboat racing.  They eventually broke through the barriers, enabling them to import the world’s best skippers to Auckland each year for a top level regatta which came to be known as the Citizen Watch Series.  “The Citizen” was a series of highly competitive and exciting two-boat “match racing” contests where there is just one winner and one loser.  Stewart 34 owners lent their boats and their skills, and by sailing both along side and against the world’s top racing skippers, New Zealand’s best sailors raised their skill levels, and begin to set their sights on international racing events.

Through the Stewart 34 owner’s continuous efforts, the Citizen became a major event on the world match racing circuit.  Top international sailors the likes of John Bertrand, Rod Davis, Paul Elvstrom, Peter Gilmour, Ted Hood, Peter Isler, Gary Jobson, John Kostecki and Ted Turner put Auckland on their annual yacht racing calendar.  They took the helms of Stewart 34’s and engaged in fierce, boat to boat competition in front of live television cameras and thousands of enthusiastic spectators on and around the Waitemata Harbour.  The Stewart 34 yachts and Citizen Watch Company, the event’s sponsor, became household names in New Zealand, and TVNZ’s Peter Montgomery emerged as the voice of New Zealand yachting and one of the world’s top yachting commentators.  

Some of the more intrepid Stewart 34 owners took to the high seas, competing successfully in grueling ocean races such as the Auckland to Suva, Auckland to Noumea and the prestigious Sydney to Hobart.   Others safely cruised the world.  

New Zealand sailors battled to keep up with the ever-improving skills of the world’s top professional sailors.  Regular Stewart sailors drove themselves harder than ever in precursor events such as practice race series, Stewart 34 Championships and the National Match Racing Trials leading up to the annual Citizen Watch Series.  Local yachties like Chris Dickson, Brad Butterworth and Russell Coutts clawed their way to the top of the leader board in the Citizen.  Many sailors who developed their competitive racing skills on Stewarts were snapped up by top international owners and skippers, becoming “rock stars” that trotted all over the globe participating in prestigious grand prix sailing events.  As a result, more than a few Stewart sailors ended up as skippers and crew in the holy grail of yacht racing, the America’s Cup.

By 1990, the stringent requirements of yachts used for international match racing events eventually overtook the maturing Stewart 34 fleet, resulting in its retirement from this demanding arena.   The pundits predicted a sudden and certain death of the Stewart Class.   

Twenty years down the track, keen young sailors continually snatch up Stewarts from the “old guard.”  They are attracted to the class essentially by the same attributes that originally made the yachts successful; value, affordability, competitive one design racing and comfortable cruising.  Today, the Stewart 34 class remains as viable as at any time in its history.  More than a third of the 58 New Zealand-based Stewart 34’s continue to race in the annual Stewart Championship Series, as well as countless other mixed-fleet racing events.  Other Stewarts remain as families’ beloved cruising yachts, regularly sailing the waters around New Zealand, and beyond.

Sponsorship of the class continues to this day.  The owners remain fanatical about their yachts – many of which have been lovingly restored to their former glory.  Despite the fact that the Stewart 34s are sailed largely in their original form, they remain remarkably competitive with most yachts of their size in mixed-fleet racing.  On weekends and holidays, they morph into family cruising yachts and can be seen cris-crossing the beautiful waters of the Hauraki Gulf.  

So what is the “X-factor” that has caused this particular class to continue to flourish for fifty years, while many larger fleets of newer and faster one design yachts have faded into obscurity?  Perhaps it is the passion of the owners, or the incredible comradeship those who sail Stewarts.  It has been said that when one starts sailing Stewarts, they immediately acquire an entire network of friends.

A total of 63 Stewart 34 yachts have reportedly been launched since 1959.  Sixty one are believed to be sailing today.  Hundreds of owners and thousands of crew have sailed tens of thousands of races and hundreds of thousands of miles, providing for many interesting “sea tales,” some hilarious, some tragic.  This volume compiles the history, interesting facts and delightful human interest stories that blend to make up the fibre of the Stewart 34 culture.

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Auckland Anniversary Day

Posted on January 26, 2009 by George Backhus

If you were lucky enough to be in  Auckland on this year’s Anniversary Day, you would have been treated to fine weather, beautiful sailing conditions and beautiful array of classic yachts taking part in the annual Anniversary Day Regatta.

My mates Bill Falconer and Charles Scoones invited me aboard their classic 1960 Stewart 34 Princess for a 25 mile run around the cans in Auckland’s Waitmata Harbour.  It was a long and sunny day on the water but the company and sailing conditions were unbeatable.

After the obligatory mid-morning parade of yachts along the City front, the racing got under way.  The first event of the day was a drag race amongst a fleet of Auckland tug boats, both old and new.

Tugs, old and new, with engines revving on the start line

And the senior Daldy smokes into an early lead

Of course there was a huge spectator fleet. . .

including the Waka Aotearoa One shown here near Rangitoto Island.

Next it was time for the yachts to hit the start line.

Three of New Zealands iconic classic yachts, mulitple Trans-Pac veteran Ragtime (ex Infidel), the 1894 Robert Logan design Waitangi and the former America’s Cup contender NZL 20, all in bristol fashion, during pre-start manouvres.

The beautiful C Class Swarbrick gliding through the Rangitoto Channel

Whether you were on the water racing or on shore watching, it was a picture perfect day!

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Rum racing in Auckland

Posted on December 1, 2008 by George Backhus
Formula One.

After five months and five thousand miles of sailing last cruising season, what exactly do I do in the “off season.” For many cruisers, it’s time for visits back home to the see family and friends, yacht maintenance and repair, land travel, or just hanging out in a marina in some part of the civilized world.

For me, it YACHT RACING! And, the best venue I have found so far is Auckland, New Zealand. If you spend a bit of time on the water with the locals, you understand why they have become the holders of the most valued prize in yacht racing, the America’s Cup.

Even the name for the amateur races suggests a bit of increased potency. There are no “beer can” races here, just “rum races.” Now, rum racing is not a polite, after-work cruise around the buoys on the family racer/cruiser. It is full-on, strip ‘em out, turbo them up, polish the bottom, push ‘em hard, swapping paint at the starts and marks, yacht racing.

If you have the stamina, you could race six days a week, eleven months a year in Auckland. There is a plethora of yacht clubs, one design fleets, sport boats, maxi’s and thousands of people keen to get on the water and compete. The annual racing schedule would overload your PDA. Yacht racing is available to anyone who wants to go and can step aboard a boat and do a bit of work. Most kids in the Auckland area are exposed to sailing and generally start out in a dinghies such as the Optimist or P Class. All the great kiwi sailors started in these littel boats that resmble an El Toro.

Most of the racing yachts are berthed in Westhaven Marina, the largest marina in the Southern Hemisphere. Along the main breakwater between the marina and the Harbour Bridge, are the four main yacht clubs: the Ponsonby Cruising Club, the Richmond Yacht Club, the Victoria Cruising Club, and the prestigious Royal New Zealand Yacht Squadron, home (temporary) of the America’s Cup.

Before a race, the docks of Westhaven are littered with sail bags, hatch boards, dehumidifiers, sheets, cushions and anything else the is dead weight and not necessary for the race. After the race, it’s social hour in the cockpits of the yachts, with rum and cokes lubricating the conversation as the participants rehash the day’s action on the water.

After the yachts are put away, it’s off to the yacht club for prize giving. What are the prizes? Rum, of course! Most every race has a rum distiller as a sponsor, providing various size bottles as prizes for line-honors and first, second and third on handicap.

At the moment I’m limiting my racing to four or five days a week. Tuesday is “Ladies Night,” so there is a maximum of three guys on board to do the grunt work, but helming is left to the ladies. Tuesdays are spent on my mate Kevin Purcell’s Palmyra, a 1959 Bob Stewart design 34 footer, constructed of wood in 1970. Palmyra is a beauty and is still quite a competitive yacht. The Stewart 34 is the former match racing boat of the Royal New Zealand Yacht Squadron and is the boat that stars like Chris Dixon and Brad Butterworth cut their teeth on in the Citizen Watch Match Racing Series from 1979 to 1989.

Thursday afternoon is a round robin of boats for the Ponsonby Cruising Club’s weekly rum race. There are lot’s of Stewart 34’s out on Thursdays, but I have also had the opportunity to crew on everything from a Stewart 40 cruising boat, to a Farr 10-20, an Elliot 12 metre, and Natoika, the 35 foot custom go-faster cruiser belonging to Philippe, who we met in Vanuatu.

The Friday night Squadron rum race attracts some more serious hardware. Every Friday night looks like San Francisco’s Big Boat Series on the Waitemata Harbour. I usually crew on Formula One, a very fast match racer that can best be described as a 51 foot Laser.

Stewart 34 Palmyra.

Every third Saturday, the Ponsonby Cruising Club sponsors a cruising race to one of the islands in the Hauraki Gulf. This is right up our alley so we take Moonshadow on these. So far, we have gotten two bullets (first to finish) and the third race was canceled due to weather. The races are usually destined to a calm anchorage and followed by a Kiwi barbecue ashore and perhaps even a party on board one of the yachts later in the evening.

Every other Sunday, the Stewart 34 Association sponsors a series of windward/leeward (upwind/downwind) races out in the Gulf. This is similar to an America’s Cup course, only shorter and with usually 12 to 18 boats of the same design competing. I have been trimming the main sail on Palmyra for the series and we are currently toward the top of the fleet in standings.

I know it sounds rough, but it keeps me from spending too much time on my own yacht maintenance.

On a sad note, New Zealand is in mourning the loss of its sailing and environmental hero, Sir Peter Blake. It was Sir Peter who helped to put New Zealand in the limelight of the sailing world. Flags flew at half staff and yachts flew black flags with the silver fern yesterday in a show of respect for a man who gave his life working to make the world a better place and attempting protect his crew from a pirate attack in Brazilian waters.

New Zealand is trying to come up with a memorial that is befitting of “Blakey.” Ideas range from changing the name of the Americas Cup/Viaduct Basin, which Sir Peter fought to create as a world class venue for the America’s Cup racing syndicates, to “Sir Peter Blake Basin” to removing the old Bean Rock lighthouse in the Waitemata Harbour and replacing it with a huge statue of Sir Peter holding a light. No matter what they do, it can never be enough for a man who has given so much to New Zealand, to yachting and to the world’s maritime environment.

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Italy and Croatia

Posted on October 29, 2008 by George Backhus

With a month left in the cruising season and just 200 miles to go to our final destination of Dubrovnik, we sat in Corfu and weighed our options.

Directly north of Greece on the way to Croatia is Albania. According to the Adriatic Pilot, formalities are complex, crime is high, and mines laid during WWII extend 20 miles out from the coast and still pose a potential hazard to navigation. This didn’t exactly give us warm fuzzies about option “A.”

The next option was to make a straight 200 mile run north, possibly against prevailing wind and seas. 24-36 hours of bashing is perhaps a small improvement on discovering an unexploded mine but still rather unattractive.

We decided to take what we thought would be most fun, if not the easiest option-head across Adriatic Sea to Italy and work our way north along her east coast and then head back across to Croatia. The thoughts of authentic Italian food, wonderful wines, excellent espresso and just plain Italy weighed heavily our decision making.

From Corfu town we made a short hop to the small island of Othoni and took anchorage for the night just outside the small harbor. Early the next morning, in a light southerly breeze, we set sail to the Italian port of Otranto, about 46 nm to the northwest. During the day the breeze gradually increased and backed, and for most of the day we had a pleasant trip. I say mostly, as during the last hour or so of the trip, the rains started. At least we would arrive with a clean boat!

The harbor at Otranto was chocker, and the only place for us to anchor was near the entrance in an area exposed to the swell, which by then coming in about 1 to 1.5 meters. The winds continued to back and by sunset were northeast, meaning we’d have to either bash to windward or head away from our destination if we wanted to find another harbor. We opted to tough it out in Otranto. With no improvement the next day, we were boat-bound again, occasionally rolling on our beam ends as Moonshadow hunted in the gusty winds.

The weather broke the following day, so we made a dash up the coast 43 miles to Brindisi. The port of Brindisi is large, modern, and picturesque and offers plenty of space along its municipal quay for visiting yachts to tie up. All of the officialdom, as well as the town’s main shopping district are within a short walking distance. We tied up across the street from a grand flight of marble steps that marked the terminus of the historical Appian Way, built in 312 BC and connecting Brindisi to Rome.

Arriving early on a Friday afternoon, we reckoned we’d have plenty of time to check in before happy hour. We reported to the harbormaster’s office which appeared to be closed for the afternoon. A ring on the doorbell and we were invited in. Thank goodness Merima is fluent in Italian, as nobody spoke English. Furthermore, nobody knew the procedure for checking in a yacht, so it was recommended that we return on Monday. Translation: We can’t be bothered with you as its time for us to go home, so come back on someone else’s watch, if you come back at all.

Brindisi’s “Old Town” is classic Italian, with lovely, ornate old buildings crowded along its narrow cobbled streets. The palm tree-lined pedestrian-only main shopping street is lined with up-scale shops and cafes and is pleasantly non-touristy.

After being boat bound for three days we were looking forward to a few good Italian meals out and we weren’t disappointed in Brindisi. The restaurants we visited all served excellent food, had great service and were very reasonably priced.

We were told the best shopping was at a mall outside of town, and we could get there, well almost there by bus, which ran hourly. We decided to head out there on Sunday morning to beat the crowds who were all at church. First of all, you can’t normally buy a ticket on the bus. You have to buy bus tickets at a kiosk. This is all fine except the kiosks are all closed on Sunday. We finally found a café that sold bus tickets. The hourly bus showed up a few minutes late and the driver informed us that he was going off duty and another bus on this route would be there soon. An hour later it finally arrived. Now you would think that with one shopping mall on the edge of town, the bus might take you right there. Not exactly. The bus takes you to the hospital a mile away and you have to walk the rest of the way. T.I.I. (This is Italy). Fine, we needed the exercise.

If the restaurants in Brindisi were excellent, the supermarket in the mall was to die for. If you have ever been to a real Italian deli in the States that have the wheels of cheese, cans of olive oil and great selections of wines, just imagine it, times 1000-overwhelming. I think we put on a few pounds just walking through the turnstile. Never have I seen so much beautiful food. I don’t remember the last time we had so much fun provisioning-except for that mile walk back to the hospital to catch the bus.

On Monday we returned to the harbormaster’s office to check in. This time we were directed to another building down the street in the ferry terminal. We couldn’t find the office that we were told to report to, and after asking at four nearby offices, we finally met a nice gentleman who walked us to another building next door and into the correct office. We would have never found this on our own. Arriving there we ran into a cruising friend, Thomas who I met in Auckland in 2003 where he was having his beautiful yacht Rubino built-small world! We filled out a few forms and were told that we were finished. This didn’t quite seem right as they didn’t even stamp our passports, but hey, we weren’t going to argue. We enjoyed a couple more relaxing days in Brindisi and then decided to head up the coast.

The 64 nm run up to Bari was an easy trip in light airs and calm seas. We pulled into the large commercial port and headed to the area designated for visiting yachts in the most recent Adriatic Pilot. It turned out to be a fenced-off secure Customs area. Rather than anchor, we decided to try the smaller Porto Vecchio or Old Port a mile or so to the south. There was plenty of room along the quay; in fact there were no other cruisers, just a few fishing boats. There was still plenty of daylight left so we decided to pop into the port offices and check to see if all the i’s were dotted and t’s crossed on our check-in to Italy. Of course, no good deed goes unpunished.

We locked up the boat and Merima chatted with a few of the old men who were fishing from the quay. As we headed into town, she felt as if we were being followed by someone. I didn’t pay much attention to it, thinking to myself, “What could happen in broad daylight in a busy place like this?” I forgot, T.I.I., and I’m learning to trust her intuition, which is usually right. Apparently an unattended yacht was an offer someone couldn’t refuse.

We went to the harbormaster and passport control. They were all very friendly and helpful, and we were able to complete the remaining aspects of our check-in. They spoke little, if any English, and once again it would have been a real mission if Merima had not been able to speak to them in Italian. Officially checked in to Italy, we headed back to Moonshadow for happy hour.

When we returned we discovered that in our one-hour absence, somebody had attempted to break into the boat. This idiot was obviously an amateur as he had attempted to break the companionway lock with a tire iron. While he managed to ding the lock, hasp and the teak around the companionway, he was unable to gain entry. Perhaps he was scared off by our return or else he was just too lazy to break his way in. Either way, this mafia-reject was no match for our oversized stainless steel padlock and hardware. He did mange to get away with a few low-value items from the cockpit, but we cringed to think about what would have gone missing if he had gotten inside.

We didn’t want to take any more chances with the local bandits, so we immediately shook off the lines and anchored in the middle of the small harbor for the night. Not impressed with our welcome to Bari, we set sail for Croatia at first light the following morning. We didn’t even bother checking out of Italy.

Our second crossing of the Adriatic Sea was a 109 mile straight shot to Gruž, the commercial port for Dubrovnik. We made the trip in 12.5 hours and arrived just around sunset after an easy approach. A friendly Customs official waved us in to the quarantine quay, welcomed us to Croatia helped us to tie up, after which he directed us to the first stop of the check-in process. In less than 45 minutes I had checked in, gotten a one-year cruising permit, and picked up a handful of Kuna, the local currency, from a nearby ATM. In contrast to the country we had departed just that morning, all the officials were courteous, knowledgeable and spoke excellent English. After we checked in we headed a couple miles up the Rijeka Dubrovačka, a long fjord-like inlet, and anchored for the night in the calm waters. Autumn was definitely in the air and it was noticeably chillier than on the Italian side. Time to pull out the comforter!

The next morning we headed further up the inlet to the ACI (Adriatic Croatia International Club) Dubrovnik Marina, topped off the diesel tanks and then Med-moored Moonshadow in the spot where she will remain for the winter. With a bit of extra time up our sleeves, we had the chance to catch up on a few lingering maintenance and repair items before we mothballed her for the winter.

ACI Marina is set near the head of Rijeka Dubrovačka where Dubrovnik’s rich and royal used to keep summer homes or palaces. In fact, on the grounds of the marina is the fabulous if slightly crumbling old Sorkocevic Summer house, with much of its extensive garden and grounds relatively intact. With high mountains on its south side, the sun rises late and sets early, providing some relief from the summer heat. At the head of the inlet is a massive spring where fresh water gushes from the base of the mountain. Quaint village homes dot the hillsides and waterfront. The marina definitely wins on its setting, even if it is a bit pricey.

The marina itself it quite a pleasant place. There are three restaurants on site, a large swimming pool, tennis court, excellent toilet and shower facilities, a small chandlery, reasonable repair facilities, WiFi, free power and water, a well stocked grocery store and an ATM. The local bus stops at the marina entrance and in about 15 minutes one can be in the center of Dubrovnik. All in all it is a good place to winter over, whether or not one is planning to stay on board.

We took off on a Sunday afternoon off and hopped a bus into the old town of Dubrovnik. This rather small 13th century walled city is largely unchanged from its original form-it’s so beautiful there would be no reason to. While most of the shops were closed, the city was still busy with tourists visiting on cruise ships. We walked down the wide, marble paved Plaka, around the old harbour, on parts of the city wall and through some of the back streets before coming back down to the center and relaxing over a glass of good Croatian wine in a trendy café on the street. About four thousand people still live in the in the old town. One of the nicest things about this place is that motor vehicles of all types are banned within the walls.

We finished putting Moonshadow in mothballs for the winter and caught a flight back home to Auckland for the southern summer.

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Cappadocia, Turkey

Posted on October 10, 2008 by George Backhus

With Moonshadow tucked away in Cesme Marina, we organized an early morning flight from Izmir, an hour away by car, to the city of Kayseri in the central Turkish region of Cappadocia. To avoid a very early wake-up call, we decided to head into Izmir the day before and have a look around Turkey’s second largest city. Izmir sprawls for miles in every direction with nondescript, high-rise concrete apartment blocks. That said, the city center appears to be quite cosmopolitan and has a long and lovely waterfront promenade. We enjoyed an afternoon checking out the trendy cafes and boutiques along the waterfront and wandering through the labyrinth of alleys and lanes that make up the city’s huge bazaar. Attached to our hotel was reportedly one of Izmir’s best seafood restaurants and we were not let down at dinner that evening.The next morning we caught the 0730 Sun Express flight from Izmir to Kayseri. In just a little over an hour, we were transformed to a completely different Turkey than that to which we had become accustomed along the Aegean coast. On the shuttle bus from Kayseri Airport to the town of Urgup we caught glimpses of Turkey’s vast agricultural heartland and industrial towns. Approaching Urgup, we came upon some of the most unique geological formations on the planet. It is these bizarre formations formed over thousands of years by volcanic activity, wind and erosion, and the civilizations that carved their homes out of them that make Cappadocia one of the most unique places in the world, and one of Turkey’s premier tourist destinations.

 

 

Assorted mushroom rocks, near Goreme.

Our accommodation was a little “cave hotel” called Elkep Evi, which we were told translates to “the ruins.” While the hotel itself is closer to four stars than the Flintstone’s Bedrock digs, it is situated amongst what was once a flourishing Greek hill/cliffside community. Our room was carved out of a solid rock cliff face with just one man-made wall containing a door and window to allow access and protect it from the outside world. All of the room’s architectural features – columns, lamp shelves, ceiling decorations, bookshelves and even a cozy little sleeping alcove – were carved out of solid stone. Unlike building a house where you just add all the things you want, with a cave house one has to imagine what they want and with a hammer and chisel, take away the rest. Completely devoid of paint or wallpaper, the interior decor is truly “natural”.

The Elkep Evi cave hotel.

It just happened to be market day so we took a stroll though the town of Urgup. Surrounding the town we found many ancient buildings, cave houses and ruins. We sampled some local wines at a nearby winery and enjoyed a wonderful dinner on the rooftop of a restaurant near our hotel, overlooking the town.

A cave room.

The following day we took what is called the “Ihlara Tour.” Starting from the nearby town of Goreme, heading in a southwesterly direction, we stopped at a few choice vantage points to view the “fairy chimneys” (conical shaped rocks) and “mushroom rocks” (cylindrical rocks with larger caps made of harder stone), some of which had been hollowed out as dwellings. These are some of the signature features of the Cappadocian landscape.

This mushroom rock scene appears on the Turkish 50 Lira note.

Despite the fact that Cappadocia is blessed with some of the most fascinating topography in the world, many of its early inhabitants chose to live underground at least part of the year. To date, at least 36 underground cities have been discovered, and it is believed that many more existed. The early inhabitants, mostly Christians, often took refuge underground during the summer months to evade invading armies from Persia. We visited the Derinkuyu Underground City which was discovered accidentally by a farmer and just opened to tourism in the 1960’s. Derinkuyu consists of a complex maze of passageways, rooms, stairways, air shafts and wells extending for acres and descending eight levels into solid rock before reaching the water table. We were told that there was actually a tunnel that went all the way to the next underground village ten kilometers away. The original inhabitants made provisions for virtually every aspect of day to day life underground, from sheltering their herds, winemaking and milling grain, to creating places of worship and incarceration of prisoners. The magnitude of the effort it took to build this city is unfathomable considering the primitive tools available in the day, not to mention what it must have been like to be in residence with 8000 people (the estimated population) in the rather cozy quarters. As sophisticated as it might have been, it is still no place for claustrophobics or sun worshippers.

Back above ground we headed to the Ihlara Valley, a long and fertile gorge whose 500-foot sheer walls were carved over centuries by the Melendez River. Starting at the town of Ihlara, we descended by foot into the gorge and walked a couple of miles downstream along the river amongst stands of tall green trees. The meandering walk took us by numerous farms, hundreds of churches, and thousands of ancient cliff dwellings and tombs. The most notable feature of the homes is the neat rows of pigeon holes carved into the rock near the entrances, looking like the mailboxes at an apartment complex. The ancients raised the pigeons for many purposes: the meat for eating, guano for fertilizing crops, feathers for bedding and some of the birds were used to carry messages to other villages. At the end of the walk we sat on pillows in a thatched roof gazebo built out over the river and enjoyed a cool Efes beer and a fresh trout for lunch.

Dwellings and pigeon holes, Ihlara Valley.

After lunch it was a short ride to the village of Selime where we visited an ancient monastery nestled against the rock face of a large plateau. Carved into the heart of fairy chimneys hundreds of feet high is a massive religious complex including some very large churches with multistoried chambers. Climbing the precipitous stairways to dizzying heights and looking out of rooms opening on to sheer cliffs is very exhilarating, if not frightening, but no place for the acrophobic or not-so-sure-footed. The site is absolutely authentic and no guard rails have been installed for safety.

The Selime Citadel.

The final stop of the day was at a viewpoint above Pigeon Valley, a lovely area with a variety of Cappadocian rock formations in hues of yellow and pink with the town of Goreme as a backdrop. All of the homes in the valley – thousands of them – were carved in the walls strictly for use by pigeons.

That evening we took a stroll into the town of Urgup for dinner. We found a lovely restaurant off the town square that offered a Cappadocian specialty, clay pot stew. It is prepared by placing a combination of bits of meat, vegetables and seasoning into a terra cotta pot and then sealing the top with a chunk of bread dough. While it is slow cooking for hours in the oven, the bread hardens and seals in the juices. It is served by carefully whacking the top off the clay pot with a meat cleaver and pouring the stew on to a serving platter. After a long day of crawling, hiking and climbing, it was the perfect meal to compliment a chilly Cappadocian evening and a chilled Cappadocian wine.

Up, up and away!

We were up before sunrise the following morning and ferried to the launch site for hot air balloons. Floating over the stunning geography at sunrise on a crisp morning was a beautiful way to experience the splendor of Cappadocia. Our pilot skillfully used the gentle and shifty early morning breezes to steer us over the hills and through the valleys. At one point we were thousands of feet up heading north, minutes later with treetops brushing the bottom of the basket we were heading south. During the hour we spent suspended from the massive bag of spinnaker cloth and steel wire, we were able to see a variety of rock formations, vineyards, creeks, towns and farms, not to mention dozens of other beautiful balloons sharing the air space. After a perfect landing we enjoyed the customary glass of champagne and then headed back to the hotel for breakfast.

Hot air ballooning over Cappadocia just before sunrise.

After a hearty breakfast of local bread, fruit, olives and cheese pie made while we watched, at the hotel’s outdoor dining area overlooking Urgup, we returned to Goreme for the “Cappadocia Tour.” The day started with a leisurely mile-or-so stroll through “Rose Valley,” a gorge with small farming plots on the bottom, and a myriad of dwellings and pigeon holes neatly carved into the steep valley walls. On the valley floor were numerous smallish and well-formed fairy chimneys in pinkish hues. Near the end of the valley was a larger fairy chimney with a small chapel carved into it.

Fairy chimneys, Rose Valley.

After a cup of Cay (Turkish tea) at a cozy makeshift cafe situated along the trail, we carried on another kilometer or so to the village of Cavuin. Overlooking the present-day town is an imposing piece of rock which in its day it was a thriving Greek cliffside community, but an earthquake in the 1950’s severely damaged the area, and the Turkish government relocated the residents to safer quarters. Quite a few of the old homes, both cave-style and aboveground, are still intact and we spent some time exploring the area.

Some of the ancient dwellings are still used today.

From Cavuin we headed north to the town of Avanos. Situated on the banks of the Red River, the deep red clay from the river bed is the raw material for Avanos’ most important industry – terra cotta pottery. The first order of business was lunch at a large restaurant that was completely underground, carved into a solid rock hillside. The entry hall alone was at least two hundred feet long and fifty feet wide and had numerous drawing rooms branching off to its sides. There appeared to be seating for hundreds of diners in five wings branching off from a large round central hall. A lone musician played traditional Turkish music on a bulbous-looking string instrument while we enjoyed an excellent clay pot stew.

After lunch we visited the largest pottery factory in the region, a family-owned business that had been passed through many generations. The entire factory and massive showroom were underground. Most of the floors were canted one way or another, and the lack of any windows had a tendency to play a bit with one’s equilibrium. After a brief demonstration of the art of hand (and foot) crafting of clay pots, we were served a cup of Cay and invited to the massive showroom containing every imaginable type of pottery. Styles were mostly Turkish but there were also items ranging from Oriental to Greek. The craftsmanship was quite impressive with prices to match.

Heading back south we stopped to have a view of a spectacular formation known as “The Castle” in the town of Ucisar. The Castle is a massive fairy chimney located on the top of a high hill and had served as the lookout and fortification for the town that had grown around it. Views from the Castle and surrounding town’s homes and guest houses are breathtaking.

The Castle, Uchisar.

Making our way back to Goreme, we stopped at a few more interesting vista points to view the various rock formations. One of them, “Imagination Valley” tempts the viewer to detect the various animal shapes (dolphins, camels, snails, etc.) formed by the rocks. Another, called “Love Valley” features large formations in the shape of phalluses.

We finished the day at the Goreme Open Air Museum, a large complex of churches and monasteries, all carved out of the rock formations. There is reported to be one church for every day of the year in this small valley, so even the most devout would not want for a change of scenery. Some of the churches are quite large and impressive, with a number of the beautiful wall and ceiling frescoes still intact. One monastery’s refectory features a solid rock table and seating benches at least 30 feet long, carved out of, or should I say, left in the room that was carved out of solid rock in ancient times.

Merima at the head of the refectory table, Goreme Open Air Museum.

After resting our feet for a few hours and a lovely Turkish BBQ dinner at the hotel, we took a taxi to a restored 13th century caravansary. Situated along what was once the primary trade route between Istanbul and Asia, the Saruhan Caravansary was a safe haven for weary merchants, their entourages and camels traveling through the region to and from the Far East. In a small mosque attached to the caravansary we watched a Whirling Dervishes Ceremony. While the caravansary itself was quite impressive I’m afraid the Whirling Dervishes left us wondering what all the fuss was about.

Chuch frescoes, Goreme Open Air Museum.

We set aside our last day in Cappadocia to sleep in, relax and spend some more time strolling around the towns of Urgup and Goreme. The following afternoon we were back aboard Moonshadow in Cesme, getting ready to make our final trip of the season across the Aegean Sea.

Posted in All Cruising Logs, Inland Travel Logs, Mediterranean Logs, Turkey | Comments Off on Cappadocia, Turkey

Santorini, Astipálaia and the Turkish Coast

Posted on August 30, 2008 by George Backhus

August Cruising

Despite pleas from friends and relatives, veiled behind dodgy weather forecasts, we slipped quietly out of the port of Hania, Crete at 0630 on the morning of the 2nd and headed northeast. We had begun to trust weather information we got from the National Observatory of Athens off the Internet at www.meteo.gr. It hasn’t let us down so far. Weather was a mixed bag of fresh breezes and light patches, mostly forward of the beam. One minute we would be motor-sailing in five knots of breeze, the next we would be romping along close-reaching in a 25 knot meltemi. Twelve hours later we had covered 100 miles and dropped the anchor off the village of Ía on the volcanic island of Thíra, better known as Santorini.

We spent three days there chilling out, catching up on a few boat chores, writing, and enjoying the one of the most beautiful phenomena of Santorini, its sunsets, both from the boat and on shore. Just before sunset is an excellent time to capture some images of Santorini’s starkly beautiful geography and unique architecture, and we’ve included a few shots from this year’s visit.

We departed Santorini and with 13-17 knots of wind right on the beam had a lovely sail 50 miles due west to the island of Astipálaia. We arrived to find that since our last visit a new bulkhead had been completed, allowing for a dozen or so visiting yachts to tie up in the protected inner harbor area, which would previously have only accommodated three or four visitors swinging on anchor. For some reason all the yachts already there were side-tied, so not wanting to be contrarians, we did the same. This would prove to be a big mistake!

We enjoyed some walks around the village of Skála, which stretches from sea level up the steep hillside to an old fort crowning the hill to the south. Virtually all of the buildings in Astipálaia are whitewashed and have door and window frames in various shades of blue or blue-green, contrasting and mixing with the various hues of the surrounding sea. Skála is a friendly and laid-back town, and we particularly like the excellent taverna with tables set right out on the beach across from the harbor, serving up tasty Greek specialties.

The first problem that resulted from our side-tying was that a very large Greek catamaran came in and rafted up to us without asking permission and against my protests. Winds were 15 to 20 knots on our beam and I was not to happy about being their fender. On my request they place a kedge anchor out to keep the pressure off our hull. They gave us a bottle of wine to smooth things over, and claimed that with four kids on board, it would have been too hard to stay out on the hook. When they left the next morning, I asked them to pull our bow out as they left so that we could med-moor and avoid any future issues with arriving yachts. They were happy to oblige, but their self proclaimed “big and powerful engines” struggled against our windage and the fresh meltemi. We finally made it clear and were able to Med-moor, giving us more flexibility to stay or leave without any dramas

After three enjoyable days in Astipálaia, the meltemi had abated and we set sail for Kalimnos. It was during the trip that we discovered the other negative effect of our side-tie in Astipálaia-we had been boarded by a rat! The first sign that we had a stowaway was that something had been gnawing away at our lovely Cretan potatoes and spitting out the skin. Further investigation confirmed the worst. Our main food pantry had been invaded and all the items that were not in hard plastic containers had been raided. To make matters worse, our uninvited guest had sharpened its teeth on the power cord of the microwave oven, chewing completely through it. It’s a shame the breaker wasn’t closed or he would have gotten a tazer-like jolt for his efforts.


The rat’s handiwork

When we arrived in Kalimnos, I immediately went out and bought the only mouse traps I could find, a new type which are little plastic trays full of soft, sticky goo that clings to the feet and fur of the pest. Apparently they thrash about trying to get free until they succumb to exhaustion. We weren’t real keen on the concept, as we always dreaded coming back to the boat or waking up to discover a sticky, furry mess. Kalimnos is a port of entry in the summer months so we decided to check out of Greece and head to the marina in Bodrum, Turkey, and wage an all out attack on our invader. The marina was full, but with some pull from our Turkish sailmaker friend Yener, we were able to get a berth for a few days.

We arrived at the marina in Bodrum in the late afternoon and were squeezed in to a Med mooring along “Mega Yacht Row.” I was able to complete the check-in and get a transit log in one hour flat. You gotta love Turkey! We caught with Yener for dinner and enjoyed a lovely evening out.

The next morning we went in search of the rat, pulling apart every locker, drawer and berth where we had found any evidence of his presence, cleaning up and looking for any further damage to the wiring. Fortunately this was confined to the aft end of the galley and the port aft stateroom where I discovered he had begun chewing on some speaker leads and the wires leading to the LPG solenoid. As any yachtie who’s ever had a rat on board knows, this could end up being a very serious problem. Unchecked, a rat could literally destroy the wiring on a yacht. We didn’t want to take any chances.

We didn’t actually have a face to muzzle confrontation, but we thoroughly cleaned everywhere he had been and I repaired the damaged wiring. I also plugged the limber holes to our pantry and shut all the lockers that are usually held open for ventilation, essentially sealing off our food supply. Yener recommended we go to a shop near the town bazaar that specializes in pest control and I returned to Moonshadow with an arsenal of poison baits and traps which I placed all over the boat. We left a lone potato out to see if our friend was still on board.

We spent five days in Bodrum waiting to see if the rat would take the bait or get caught in a trap. Fortunately, it appeared if he had jumped ship in Kalimnos, as we didn’t see hide nor hair (nor droppings or carcass) of him, and none of the baits was even touched. Disaster was averted but our arsenal will be kept on board in case of future boardings.

From Bodrum we day-hopped north along the Ionian Coast of Turkey. While this part of the Turkish coast is less attractive than south of Bodrum, it is off the main gület routes, so it is much less crowded, quieter and easier to swing on the hook in the anchorages. On the second morning we easily made it though the Samos Strait, which is a narrow and normally nasty piece of water between the Greek Island of Samos and the coast of Turkey. We approached it early in the morning before the meltemi had filled in and went through in glassy calm water. We arrived later that morning at the marina in the town of Kuşadasi. Kuşadasi is a sizeable resort town with a large and well protected marina and likely owes its popularity to its proximity to the ancient Roman city of Ephesus, which is about 19 km away. Ephesus was one of the largest cities in the eastern Mediterranean and is today one of the best preserved of its era. Originally a port city, due to silting Ephesus now lies three miles inland from the sea.

We wanted to avoid the hottest part of the day so we started at 0700 and caught a dolmus (mini bus) from town which dropped us off along the main highway about a kilometer from the entrance to Ephesus. We had been advised to start at the uphill end of the ruins and work our way down, but got a bit mixed up on our navigation and ended up starting at the bottom. This ended up being a blessing in disguise as we were among the first to arrive at the lower gate and much of what we saw was still bathed in cool shade. By the time the large buses arrived a couple hours later disgorging thousands of tourists, we had made our way nearly to the top, had seen all the best parts of the city, and had had the place nearly to ourselves.

Among the most interesting structures remaining of the original city are the impressive facade to the Library of Celsus, the massive amphitheatre (capacity 25,000), the main street paved in marble and one section of terraced homes which have been fully excavated, partially restored and totally covered by a protective, climate-controlled structure. In what remains of the homes one can still see the beautifully frescoed walls, ornate mosaic tile floors and remnants of the intricate plumbing systems. Having Ephesus largely to ourselves for a few hours was a wonderful experience and we were back on a dolmus headed back to Kuşadasi before the heat of the day.

The Amphitheater

Facade of the Library of Celsus

We continued north from Kuşadasi to the quiet little fishing village of Siğacik. We were able to swing in the well-protected anchorage and took the dinghy ashore and walked around in the old walled city. Tourism hasn’t yet spoiled the place and it appears as if people live here much as they did a hundred years ago. Kids play ball in the streets and a flatbed truck winds its way through the narrow streets bringing fresh fruits and veggies to the front door.

Departing later in the afternoon, we had a nice easy sail to a secluded bay called Kirkdilim Limani. The water was so clear we could see the anchor on the bottom in 6-8 meters of water. We enjoyed a refreshing swim, sundowners and a barbeque.

The next day we made our way to the town of Çeşme and into the marina. The marina is in a state of neglect and disrepair with one pontoon completely unusable, but it was well protected from the meltemi and a safe enough place to leave Moonshadow for a few days of inland travel. A few days before we arrived, the marina was apparently taken over by Camper and Nicholsons and they have grand plans to develop the surroundings and bring the marina up to a five gold anchor standard. We spent the next day giving Moonshadow a much-needed bubble bath, exploring the Genoese castle and surrounding town and getting ourselves ready for our inland trip to Cappadocia.

Posted in All Cruising Logs, Greece, Mediterranean Logs, Turkey | Comments Off on Santorini, Astipálaia and the Turkish Coast

Greece: From the Aegean to the Ionian

Posted on August 10, 2008 by George Backhus

From the Turkish town of Cesme it was a short, eight-mile hop back to Greece and the island of Chios. We slipped away early in the morning before the mighty Meltemi began to blow and we found plenty of space to Med-moor on the quay in Chios town.

All the offices of officialdom were well hidden on the opposite corner of the harbor near the ferry terminal, more than a mile walk from where we were tied up. As usual, the officials were polite, professional and helpful, even if we did have to wait to meet the Customs officer for our transit log. Just before we finished the process, a power failure shut the place down. As if it were a daily occurrence, I was nonchalantly told I’d need to return in a few hours to finish the process. When something like this happens, all you can say is T.I.G. (This is Greece!)

The good news is that the Port Captain was kind enough to organize a mini tanker so we could bring Moonshadow to the quay near his office later in the day and top up the diesel tanks and avoid another two-mile walk. Armed with a new Greek Transit Log and a load of very expensive dinosaur juice (US $7 a gallon), we were ready to head west.

Chios town is pleasant, if a bit noisy from all the auto traffic, but lacks the quaint atmosphere of many of the small Greek port villages we visited in the Dodacanese and Cyclades. In other words, it’s not really a place we wanted to hang out.

A favorable weather window for crossing the Northern Aegean Sea was on the horizon, so we departed Chios and headed down the coast and anchored in a small bay off the village of Emborios near the southern tip of the island. The steep-walled, rocky inlet was rather tight quarters but picturesque. It afforded us reasonable overnight protection and was a good staging point for the first leg of our run across the Aegean.

Early the next morning we took advantage of the lull in the Meltemi and motor-sailed west about half way across the Aegean to Andros Island, the northernmost of the Cyclades group. We found good protection in the Gavrion Bay on the west side of the island. Andros is a rather quiet island which is largely off the tourist’s radar screen. Dotted with some lovely old homes, this fertile island remains primarily an agricultural area.

We were away early the next morning and hoped to cover some ground before the Meltemi piped up again, but by the time we reached Kea Island the wind and seas had whipped up and we were bashing into them. Fortunately, we were able to bear away to the south as we rounded the top of the island and we had a sleigh ride into Vourkari Bay. We had some difficulty getting our Bruce anchor to set in the weed bottom but finally managed to get properly hooked on the fourth attempt. We waited out another day of a strong Meltemi and were able to organize a berth at the Zea Marina in Piraeus.

Kea is a charming little island with a large, natural harbor with good all-around protection. Its close proximity to Athens makes it a popular destination for those wanting
to get away from the “big smoke” and its hills are dotted with expensive and expansive villas.

Departing early the next morning, it was a bit lumpy for the first hour or so, thanks to a residual swell from the Meltemi. The seas began to lay down when we sailed into the lee of Makronisi Island and by the time we reached Cape Sounion where the stunning Temple of Apollo is perched on a promontory on the mainland coast, we were in calm waters. It was a beautiful and surprisingly clear day and as we approached Piraeus we could see the Acropolis off in the distance, rising above the surrounding metropolis of Athens. Athens, like Los Angeles, is set in a large basin surrounded by mountains. It sprawls inland for miles from the sea. Unlike L.A. it is almost totally devoid of high rise buildings. The typical Athenian building is a rather nondescript concrete apartment block of about nine floors, painted in some hue of white or beige. From a distance in the daytime, the uniform texture of the landscape makes it appear as if the Athenian basin is filled with grains of sand, with a rock (the Acropolis) sticking up in the middle

A View of the Acropolis as we approached Pireaus

We made our way into the Zea Marina and were directed to a Med-mooring amongst a lineup of megayachts sporting helicopters, huge Sat-Com domes, mega-tenders and mirror-finish paint jobs, all tended to by navies of uniformed crew. Zea, the primary marina for Athens/Piraeus, is absolutely enormous. To circumnavigate it by foot takes nearly an hour. The perimeter is lined with trendy cafes, posh restaurants and there is even a groovy swimming pool/nightclub complex. Power and water on the quay are controlled by a high-tech prepaid key card system. After spending so much time out in the hinterlands we found it all a bit overwhelming, but we were pleased to find a berth in a location that was convenient to central Athens.

The following morning we headed into town to see some of the sights. It was a short taxi ride from the marina to the Metro station where we caught a train for the 20-minute ride to central Athens. We found the Metro system to be very clean, efficient and user-friendly, no doubt one of the numerous legacies of the 2004 Olympic Games. Forty-five minutes from the boat and we popped out of a subway station near the Archeological Museum where we spent the rest of the morning gazing at Greece’s most impressive display of antiquities.

We caught up for a late (and very long) lunch with a distant cousin living in Athens whom I had never met before. John spoke excellent English, was great company, and treated us to a wonderful seafood meal at one of his favorite contemporary Greek restaurants in the city. Afterwards he walked us through the neighborhood of Plaka which is situated at the base of the Acropolis and gave us some tips on things to do and places to see from an Athenian’s point of view. After a thoroughly delightful day in Athens we easily made our way back to Moonshadow in Piraeus.

The next morning we again made our way into town by taxi/subway and hiked up to the Acropolis. It seems that our timing of a visit to Athens in early September was, for the most part, a real winner. With many Athenians still on summer holiday, the city was pleasantly uncrowded. The air was clean and the stifling heat of July and August had passed. While the temperatures were still warm, it was reasonably comfortable for some long walks. The only unfortunate part of our timing was that the Parthenon was undergoing some massive restoration and was mostly shrouded in scaffolding. Nonetheless it was a pleasant morning spent exploring the ruins of the ancient “high city” and its surroundings. Visibility was nearly unlimited and the panoramic views over the city of Athens were spectacular.

After lunch at a sidewalk cafe in Plaka we wandered around the neighborhood and the adjoining Anafiotika quarter. Anafiotika is a quaint and quiet Cycladic Island-style enclave nestled up against the base of the Acropolis. From there we walked up the long, stylish pedestrian shopping street of Emmou and reached the Parliament building in time to watch the changing of the Guard. The ceremony is very interesting and involves some very contorted moves on the part of the guards. We couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if Michael Jackson donned one of the colorful costumes and jazzed up the moves a bit. When it is all over an attendant quickly tidies up the on-duty guards by wiping off the perspiration and straightening their uniforms so they can stand stoic for the remainder of the hour.

Changing of the Guard at Parliament, Athens

In retrospect, we found Athens to be much cleaner and user-friendly than we had anticipated. In all of our experiences with taxis, the drivers were polite and used the meter, although we did have to share cabs on a couple of occasions, which is customary in Greece. For longer trips, the Athens Metro system is inexpensive, efficient and easy to navigate.

Our Auckland yacht racing mate Mandy flew in from London and joined us for a week of cruising. Soon after she arrived, we threw off the lines and departed the hustle and bustle of Piraeus and headed west. Our first stop was an anchorage off the town of Isthmia, and as usual we reached it just in time for happy hour.

The town of Isthmia is located on the isthmus where the large mass of land called the Peloponnesus was once connected to the rest of mainland Greece. In ancient times, ships were literally dragged across the 3.2 mile isthmus, saving about 600 miles of sailing to get to the Ionian Sea. The Corinth Canal was finally cut through the solid rock isthmus in the late 19th century allowing small ships and boats to pass through.

We tied up near what was labeled the “Customer Service” office of the Corinth Canal to pay for our transit. I’m not sure what service they provided – we tied up the boat, I walked in to pay, and we drove Moonshadow through the canal. At €320 (US $470), the 3.2 nautical mile long Corinth Canal cost us more to transit than either the Panama or Suez Canals. Given that the Suez Canal is around 90 miles long and the Panama Canal is around 50 miles long (and has six locks), this little ditch is really a gold mine for the Greeks. Perhaps they think that accepting credit cards for the transit fee is service. the draw bridges located at either end are one cool feature of the Corinth Canal. Instead of lifting up or swinging, the center span sinks down and disappears into the water and you can see the roadway on the bottom as you sail over it. Otherwise our transit was an A-ticket ride. Yawn.

Transiting the Corinth Canal

With the Corinth Canal and a load of Euro in our wake, we headed northeast across the Gulf of Corinth to the lovely little town of Galaxhidi. The people of the village were very friendly and curious. Most of the century-plus old village homes were well-restored and colorfully painted, in stark contrast to many of the villages we visited in the Aegean Sea where most homes are in shades of white. A rather talkative, self-appointed harbormaster who called himself “Number One” organized a taxi to take us up to Delphi the next morning.

A half hour ride from Galaxhidi in a luxurious Mercedes Benz taxi and we were in the ancient sanctuary of Delphi. Situated on a steep mountainside, the setting of Delphi is nothing short of spectacular. On the day we visited the weather was perfect, lending to the extraordinary serenity of the site. We spent a few hours wandering through the remarkable ruins and the adjacent museum before we returned to Galaxhidi.

The serenity of Delphi.

That afternoon we headed west 22nm to the quiet little island village of Trizonia, and Med-moored to the village quay. By contrast to the Aegean, the Gulf of Corinth had very light breezes throughout the day and the clear waters enticed us to take an afternoon swim.

We continued west again the next day to the village of Nafpaktos. The oval-shaped medieval walled harbor was a bit too cozy for us to Med-moor inside, but we found comfortable anchorage in the calm waters of the bay just outside. On the hillside overlooking the picturesque village is a Venetian castle, adding to the overall charm of the place. That evening we went ashore for a stroll, drinks, and an excellent dinner in a waterfront taverna and were surprised at the number of trendy bars and cafes filled with very hip-looking young people.

A calm morning anchored off the village of Nafpaktos

Our next leg was a full day’s run out through the Gulf of Patra and into the Ionian Sea to the Island of Ithaca. Just as we entered the harbor at Vathi town after a day of motor-sailing in light airs, the wind suddenly piped up to 30 knots and was blowing right in through the harbor entrance. Looking for a little better protection and more swinging room, we headed back out and anchored at the head of the Gulf of Molo. The winds abated a few hours later and the next morning we found ourselves in the lee of a rubbish dump so the odors wafting down the hillside were a bit unpleasant. We returned to Vathi and took anchorage in the harbor. We enjoyed a stroll around the town and that evening returned to celebrate Merima’s birthday at an excellent taverna run by a Greek family that had returned to the motherland after spending many years in New York.

We headed north the next day and stopped at a lovely anchorage called One House Bay on the little island of Atoko. After a swim in the crystal clear waters and lunch, we weighed anchor and headed to the “island” of Levkas. Levkas was once part of Mainland Greece, but in ancient times a canal was cut through the marshy isthmus enabling smaller vessels to navigate between them.

One House Bay, Atoko Island

At the north end of Lefkas is what the Lonely Planet described as a “smart new marina.” Two years after the publication date I can tell you unequivocally that it is neither. The prices are the only thing five-star about this marina. Upon our arrival we were underwhelmed by the lack of helpfulness on the part of the dock attendants. Useless would be the most polite adjective to describe them. The shower and toilet facilities were absolutely disgusting. The on-site mini market was terribly overpriced. In a southerly breeze, the marina is situated just downwind from a rubbish dump, with fires endlessly smoldering and sending along its malodorous smoke. Dead fish and rubbish congregated in the water and we never saw anyone making any attempts at a cleanup. The WiFi system had been down for more than a month with no repair date anticipated. All this for the highest price we’ve ever paid for a marina. If the marina was a loser, Lefkas town was a pleasant enough place and at least Moonshadow would be secure while we took off for a few days of inland travel. We all enjoyed a meal in town featuring some Lefkadan specialties that evening.

We bid Mandy a farewell as she caught a bus back to the airport in Athens and we prepared to head inland to Meteora.

Driving in Greece is an exciting, if not terrifying experience. The roads are generally good and navigation is not difficult as most signs show place names in both Greek and Roman characters. Along our route we were teased with a new stretch of freeway that was being built to transverse the country from coast to coast (Ionian to Aegean). This road was of Autobahn quality, featured some very long tunnels through the mountains and the speed limit was posted at 130 kph (80 mph) for cars. As if our rented Fiat Punto could even reach that speed! Back on the old roads, stuck behind slow trucks with no passing lanes to be found, we could understand why the road toll in Greece is reportedly the highest in Europe. Greek drivers love to drive fast, are very impatient and overtake slower vehicles at every opportunity. We witnessed dozens of extremely close calls in the hours we were on the road. We split up the five hour drive with a lunch stop in the quaint mountain hillside village of Metsovo. From there it was a couple more hours on a winding road to the village of Kastraki in the extraordinary area called Meteora.

Rising above the valley are massive rock pinnacles, which themselves are quite a spectacular sight. During the Byzantine era, reclusive monks seeking peaceful havens from the Turkish incursions into Greece built numerous monasteries on the tops of these lofty rock pinnacles. Originally the only access was by rope ladders or in rope nets hauled up by a hand-cranked windlass. Some of these spectacular monasteries sit precariously perched on pinnacles that loom hundreds of feet above the surrounding ground level.

Rousanou (foreground) and Saint Nicholas Anapafsas (behind) Monastaries, Meteora

A handful of the original monasteries remain and most of these are now open to the public. Oh, yes, stairways have been carved out of or built on to the rock so that visitors can now walk up safely. We visited three of the monasteries on a rather drizzly and overcast day. All were quite impressive, and the largest, Moni Megalou Meteorou was literally a self-contained village situated on the top of a massive pinnacle. Fortunately the weather cleared and the following day was absolutely brilliant. We took the opportunity to drive or walk to some of the spectacular vista points along the ridge overlooking the monasteries and the valley below.

The net used for lifting people and goods up to the monastery
In spite of the fact that Meteora is one of Greece’s most popular tourist attractions, the village was deathly quiet at night. The odd motorcycle approaching from the main road a mile away would occasionally break the silence. On the second night of our visit the silence was also broken by the most spectacular thunderstorm. The booming of the thunder reverberating against the valley walls carried on in some cases for nearly half a minute. It was a great night to be on terra firma and not on board a boat in the middle of the ocean. Through heavy rains, the next day we safely navigated the Greek roads back to Levkas Marina.The next morning was overcast but calm. We departed the marina and headed north, hoping to make it to the island of Paxos. We made it through the swing bridge connecting Levkas to the mainland for the 0900 opening and headed into open water. In no time the winds were fresh from the northwest and the seas were building. We thought better of bashing into this all day so quickly nipped into the Ambracian Gulf and anchored in a nicely protected bay off the town of Preveza where we got caught up, or should I say, a little bit less behind on some boat maintenance.
 

 

The winds abated overnight so we headed out the following morning and easily made the 30nm trip to Paxos. We tied up to the quay in the lovely little town. It was quite busy with tourists during the day, but by late afternoon most of them were on a boat back to Corfu so the evenings were very serene. On the Friday night we had a huge downpour. This was the first time we had experienced any measurable rain on board in more than a year. Finally the rig and halyards got a cleaning from the Meltemi dust. We chilled out in Paxos for a couple days and waited for favorable weather to make the trip up to Corfu.

The Corfu Sailing Club

The strong northerlies eased and we motor-sailed from Paxos to Corfu. The small municipal harbor was chocker with fishing and day tripper boats, but we were able to find berthing at the Corfu Sailing Club. Nestled under the north side of the Corfu’s old castle, the Corfu Sailing Club is a convivial little marina. It is a bit ramshackle and quarters for maneuvering are tight, but it has all the facilities necessary for a cruiser: power, water, toilets, showers, a diesel pump, WiFi, social area, bar and restaurant. Prices were reasonable and it was just a five minute walk to the center of Corfu town.

Beautiful old buildings along the Liston, Corfu

In stark contrast to the laid-back villages typical of the Greek Islands, Corfu town is a decidedly sophisticated city. With its Venetian mansions, broad promenades, spacious parks, trendy cafes and upscale shops, it is where Greece meets the rest of Europe. One can easily get lost meandering through the labyrinth of narrow streets in the quaint old town. There were, of course, the ubiquitous tourist shops selling the usual Greek curios, many of which had probably been made in China. The most surprising offering were wooden carvings of Komodo Dragons. Not exactly a Greek thing. We’d seen millions exactly like them in Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia and even as far away from Komodo as Thailand, but Greece? We enjoyed a few days of relaxing and exploring in Corfu, but with the season winding down, it was time to bid a farewell to Greece.

In case you missed the chance in Indonesia, you can get a hand carved Komodo Dragon in Corfu

I wish it was that simple. Up to this point formalities in Greece had been too easy. Departing Greece for the last time became a real challenge. First off, on the day we wanted to check out, both Customs and Immigration had gone on strike. Once again, this is Greece! Thinking it was mandatory to check out with both offices, we persisted in rustling up some people who managed to relieve us of our Transit log and glance at our passports, but not after being sent to and fro from office to office. Unlike most other Greek ports, Corfu’s officials are spread out all over the waterfront along the city’s huge commercial and ferry port, so the process involved miles of walking. As it turned out, we could have simply mailed in our Transit Log and we were told we didn’t need a departure stamp in our passports as we were bound for another EU country. What a huge waste of time!

A view of Corfu Town from the Old Castle

We slipped out of Corfu the next morning and anchored off of the quiet little island of Othoni, lying off the northwest corner of Corfu. From there it would be an easy 46nm trip to the port of Otranto, on the heel of the boot of Italy.

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The Isle of Crete

Posted on August 5, 2008 by George Backhus

The two most difficult things about Crete for us was getting there and leaving-both for completely different reasons. If the Meltemi tries to keep you out, the wonderful people, beautiful landscape and sumptuous food won’t let you go.

We departed the snug little anchorage in Khelatronas Bay on the south end of Kásos Island and headed slightly south of east to the island of Crete. The grib files we had downloaded the day before forecast a fresh NNW’ly so we thought it might be a wet and wild close reach for the 28 mile trip but when we were clear of the effect of the island we were bashing into 20-30 knot westerly, motor sailing at about six knots to stay comfortable and avoid pounding the boat as much as possible. The forecast showed the wind easing a bit the next day, so we took refuge near the northeast cape of the island in a bay called Ormos Dhaskalia.

We had fallen off couple of pretty big waves along the way, rattling our bones and undoubtedly loosening my new molar crown. The forepeak had taken on a bit of water through the anchor chain hawse and the high water alarm began squealing, indicating that the electric bilge pump was on a Greek holiday. I flicked on the genset and activated our emergency bilge pump system and a few seconds later the forepeak was full of air again. After totally emptying the forepeak of sails, spinnakers, awnings and covers I lifted the floor board and discovered that the electric bilge pump had come free from its snap-in mount and the impeller had become jammed with a small piece of debris-a double whammy. Both situations were corrected in a few minutes and the forepeak got a good drying out for the rest of the day.

We weighed anchor at first light the next morning and made it around Cape Sídheros before the Meltemi and accompanying seas had picked up to full force. It was a fairly easy trip across the Gulf of Mirabello to the town of Áyios Nikólaos in westerly winds varying from 3 to 30 knots.

A quick cell phone call to the Áyios Nikólaos Marina confirmed that they had space for Moonshadow for a few days where we could relax and await conditions that were more favorable for moving west again. By the time we arrived in the marina, the Meltemi had fully developed for the day and the bullets funneling through the gap in the mountains were reaching over 30 knots. It’s always fun berthing in an unfamiliar marina in these conditions, especially when there is a large audience on shore just waiting for some excitement at someone else’s expense.

The good news is that the loud and zealous dock attendant assigned us to a side tie on the fuel jetty. This was excellent for us as all the regular berths are Med-moorings and situated perpendicular to the prevailing winds. The Greeks must have learned marina layout from the same people as the San Franciscans. I was practicing my “dial-up” near the marina entrance and held Moonshadow on station, head to wind (with occasional use of power) for the time it took Merima to set up dock lines and fenders, all the while trying to indicate to Zealous Zorba the dock attendant that we would like to get lines and fenders ready before we approached the jetty. He finally got the message and managed to contain his impatience for a few minutes. The bad news was that the wind was blowing us right off the jetty at 20 knots, gusting to 30, so it would be a bit of fun getting her along side. Merima tossed an aft spring to Zorba and I pointed to a bollard and asked him to tie it off. Being the macho man he was, he paid me no mind and took two casual turns on it, holding the tail in his hands. Ok, have it your way matey. As I applied the requisite amount of power it would take to bring us alongside in the breeze, away went the line and surely a layer or two of his thick skin. Landing aborted-go around! On the second approach I suggested to Merima that she put a bowline in the end of the line so that Zorba could simply slip it over the bollard. Mr. Macho wouldn’t have a bar of it, and loudly insisted we toss him the line immediately and he would tie it. He caught the aft spring, and this time took three or four turns around the bollard and was just barely able to hold it while I applied the requisite power and rudder to maneuver Moonshadow along side the bulkhead so we could fasten the rest of our dock lines. He then handed over this highly loaded line to a lady from a nearby yacht in order to catch our stern line. Once we were tied up Zorba insisted that a boat like ours should have a bow thruster (as if it would have been of any help in this situation). He said every boat in the Med over 40 feet has a bow thruster, because without one, it makes his job too hard. I told him that I would give it my full consideration and by the way, we had somehow managed just fine without one for the past 14 years and 70,000+ miles. In a supreme display of restraint, I stopped myself short of offering to teach him how to tie a bowline.

Áyios Nikólaos has the only proper marina on the isle of Crete. While its facilities are basic, it is a pleasant enough place to stay and right along side the town. Áyios Nikólaos is itself is a lovely town with the city harbor and an adjacent lagoon forming the nucleus. While the architecture is mostly mid to late 20th century and rather uninspiring, the town is very friendly and has a nice vibe to it. It was bustling with tourists, mostly Greek, and the waterfront cafes, restaurants and bars would begin to swell up after the 8:30 sunset and carry on till all hours. On our first evening out we found a lovely restaurant specializing in modern interpretations of classic Cretan food and enjoyed one of the best meals we’ve had in Greece. Afterwards a Greek band played traditional music on a stage that had been set up across the street on the beach. All in all it was a wonderful introduction to Crete.

The town of Áyios Nikólaos

A great little restaurant in Áyios Nikólaos

After cleaning the boat and exploring the lively little town of Áyios Nikólaos we were able to get some reliable weather information from the Greek Meteo web site. It would be at least four days before the strong WNW’ly Meltemi would blow itself out and we would have some light breeze in which we could move west.

We rented a car and headed first to the capital city of Iraklion which is situated more or less in the middle of the island on the north coast. We weren’t very impressed with the harbor or the city, so decided to visit the archeological museum and then head out. Unfortunately the main museum was closed for renovation, but they had a small “best of the best” exhibit in a downstairs room so we checked that out. An hour was ample for the mini exhibit and after a brief walk around the town’s central district, we drove south a few miles to the ancient Minoan palace of Knossos.

Ruins of the Palace of Knosos

Knossos is inland just enough to be away from the full force of the Meltemi, and with its surroundings of green hills and farms is quite a peaceful setting. The restoration that has taken place on the site was enough to give us a glimpse of just how advanced the Minoan civilization was for their era. Some original frescoes remain and the style of architecture is reminiscent of the art deco/art nouveau era.

A frescoed wall in the Palace of Knosos

Our throats were parched from a few hours of crawling around the fascinating ruins of Knossos in the heat of the day, so we headed further inland a few more kliks to the Boutari Winery. The state-of-the-art facility perched on a hilltop overlooking vast vineyards is quite impressive. We had the vast, modern tasting room to ourselves as tasted our way through flights of Cretan and other Greek wines, mostly made from grape varietals of which we had never heard, but thoroughly enjoyed. It was a great day and an opportunity to stock up on some drinkable ballast.

Sampling Cretan wines at Boutari Winery

The following day we drove north through the town of Elounda and along the Spinalonga Lagoon. This was apparently an exclusive and posh resort area in its day, but appears to have lost a bit of its glitter. The large, shallow lagoon offers great protection from the Meltemi and we reckoned would be a good staging point for us as we headed west. At the north end of the lagoon lies Spinalonga Island, on which is the ruin of a fortification the Cretans used to defend against the invading Turks. Some of the intact buildings were used as a leper colony until 1953.

Spinalonga Island

A seafood restaurant on the waterfront of Spinalonga Lagoon

We then drove up into the hills to explore some of the small villages up near Cape Áyios Ioánnis. In the little village of Seles we found a lovely little taverna with sea views and stopped for lunch. Our meal was basic but authentic and the couple who ran the place were colorful characters. The lady did all of the cooking and most of the serving while the man imparted his philosophy on customers, drank beer and occasionally picked up a finished plate. He pointed to his head and said “I do my work in here.” We learned in Cyprus that the word for bill or check is logariasmos. In Crete it seems to mean something slightly different. Whenever we asked for the bill here, we got a large plate of karpoúzi (watermelon) and a small bottle of ice cold tsikoudiá (Cretan raki or grappa). The combination is very refreshing and relaxing and tends to help ease one into the laid-back Cretan lifestyle.

Driving back to Áyios Nikólaos we passed through a few more old villages. It appears that time has passed many of these places by and what were once lively communities are now nearly ghost towns. Most of the young people have left for the cities. Old people stay back and wait out their years. Some of the people we saw looked quite old with deep lines carved in their faces, probably in their 90’s. Some have lived their entire life in the village they were born in, survived foreign occupations and wars on their soil and watched the arrival of running water, electricity and the automobile. Goat’s milk and olives are the mainstay, raw materials for some of the best oils and cheeses in the world. Now they sit and watch as each car passes by, showing little or no emotion towards the most recent invasion-tourism.

The following day we took a drive up to the Lasithi Plateau. This verdant valley is an important agricultural region which grows many of the fruits and vegetables for Crete. By contrast it is cooler and more pleasant than the rocky, wind blown landscape down near sea level. We took the opportunity to chill out a bit and mingle in the villages where the local people produce a variety of handicrafts. We also observed the numerous metal windmills used to pump water from the ground. The basic design has been around for centuries, but is quite a clever blend of mechanical and aerodynamic engineering as well as some plain old sailing technology. The blades are really small cloth sails which can be rolled up or “reefed” when the winds are up, and a pole extends out from the main shaft to which “stays” are attached. They are attached to the ends of the blades to keep them from bending back in a strong breeze.

A traditional windmill on the Lesithi Plateu

A break in the Meltemi was forecast so we grabbed a few provisions, checked out and headed a few miles north to Spinalonga Lagoon where we found good anchoring out of the full force of the Meltemi. The forecast was correct and the following day we made the 90 mile trip due west to the old Venetian port city of Hania. Winds were light and seas were calm and other than a couple of dolphin visits, we had a relaxing and uneventful trip along the north coast of Crete. A cell phone call to the harbormaster confirmed there was plenty of room to Med-moor in the old harbor. While it was high tourist season in the prefecture of Hania, few cruising yachts make it out this way. After tying up we had plenty of daylight left to take a stroll around the old city with its lovely Venetian and Ottoman buildings, quaint narrow streets and open air cafes down on the waterfront. From here I would begin the search for the ancestral home of my grandfather.

Moored on the bulkhead in Hania

A fisherman by the old lighthouse

Next to us on the bulkhead were Bernie and Patricia on Checkmate, also hailing from Sausalito. Bernie, whose last name is Kreten, was also in search of his family roots. We started chatting and became fast friends. Bernie later introduced us to his new friend, a local gentleman named Manolis. Manolis had lived in New York for 20 years and had done a variety of things from modeling to driving a taxi and tending bar. He returned to his home in Hania eighteen years ago and is now a trekking guide, olive farmer and real estate developer. With a resume like that he obviously knows a lot of people. I told him what we were doing there and gave him my family name. He said he had heard of it and would talk to some of his friends to see what he could find out. In the mean time we spend a couple days exploring Hania and organized a trip to the Samaria Gorge with Manolis.

Hania is one of the most beautiful and exotic cities in Greece. Its “old town” which is contained within the mostly intact city walls is a step back into history and brings together the distinctive influences of the Roman and Ottoman Empires. The Venetian Quarter with its narrow, winding streets has mostly been restored into luxury boutique hotels, upscale cafes and restaurants and tourist shops. It is a delightful place to roam around any time of the day. In the afternoon it is shady and quiet, as most of the Greeks are at rest. In the evening it bursts into life with people coming out to eat and drink till all hours. The old harbor is very picturesque, with an original Venetian lighthouse sitting on the end of the breakwater, and an endless strip of open-air tavernas. On the other side of the harbor is Splantzia, the Turkish Quarter. Here the streets are even narrower and it is easy to get lost in the maze. Most of the buildings are residential, with quite a few abandoned or in ruin, but most have been lovingly converted into charming homes.

A quiet back street in Hania

Everyone enjoying a siesta on the waterfront

A couple days later at 0700 we were on a mini bus heading inland to the White Mountains ready for a long walk The 11 mile long Samaria Gorge is reported to be the longest in Europe. At the start of the walk, the gorge is about 500 wide. In the first mile we descended about 3000 feet on wooden steps. The scenery was impressive and very reminiscent of the Sierra Nevada with its similar evergreen trees and mountain wild flowers. Springs flowed at regular intervals, allowing us to fill our bottles with cool, fresh drinking water. Walking was difficult on the trail which was mostly uneven loose rock. We were happy to stop for a lunch break at the abandoned village of Samaria where we caught glimpse of a couple reclusive wild Cretan kri-kri goats that had come to the village in search of food.

On the trail head for the walk through the Samaria Gorge

An elusive koi-kri goat

Continuing on after lunch, we were walking on the riverbed and the gorge continued to narrow. At the end of the gorge we came to what is called “the iron gates” where the walls are only 10 feet apart and 2000 feet high and had to walk on a rickety wooden walkway over the river to get through. From there it was another 45 minutes walk to the village of Áyias Rouméli lying on the south coast of Crete along the shore of the Libyan Sea. We enjoyed a couple of cool beverages while we cooled our blistered feet and rested our sore legs at a taverna on the beach and waited for the next ferry to Soúgia, where we caught another mini bus back to Hania.

The “Iron Gates” 

Manolis had learned that a friend of his knew someone with the family name Tzortzakis. They were both invited around to the boat for a drink and to get acquainted. A burly guy named Dimitris Tzortzakis showed up and we chatted for awhile. Although we couldn’t make a direct family connection, his ancestors came from a village not far from Malathyros, where my grandfather was from. Dimitris has an infections smile and a great sense of humor, and speaks  English well. He’s quite a clever guy who’s turned his hobby of remote control aircraft into an aerial photography business. We had a great time together and hit it off, calling each other “cousin” by the end of the evening. He offered to go with us to Malathiros to look for family.

Dimitris met us on Saturday morning and drove us up to Malathyros. An avid “enduro” motorcycle rider, he is very familiar with the back roads and trails through the hills and mountains of Crete. We arrived in Malathros and Dimitris chatted with the first person we saw, an elderly lady. She knew of my family and pointed us further up the road. At another cluster of homes, we chatted to a few more people. They were all smiles when they found out who we were, but pointed us further up the road.

Arriving in the village of Malathyros


Dimitris in Malathyros

We came to the home of my grandfather’s nephew and mother’s first cousin. Nobody was home but eventually a lady came walking up the road. Theano, my mother’s cousin’s wife was elated when she found out who we were. She lamented that everyone left Malathiros but nobody ever came back. Apparently her husband had died four years before and she now spends most of her time in Hania to be closer to her family. We were fortunate that she just happened to be in Malathyros that day. She invited us all in for a Greek coffee and we chatted for awhile and looked at photographs of her family. She doesn’t speak any English and we don’t understand Greek, but that didn’t stop Theano from having a lively conversation. Dimitris couldn’t translate fast enough, but she did say she could see the family resemblance in me.

On the ruin of the home my grandfather built

After coffee we walked up behind her home where there was an abandoned house. It had been her father-in-law’s home, the brother of my grandfather. Next door, amongst the olive trees was the ruin of my grandfather’s home-a cluster of two stone buildings, one had a deep cellar well below ground level. The view from these homes was spectacular, looking north out over Kissamos Bay in the Sea of Crete five miles below. It was an idyllic setting, quiet and serene on the day we visited. It wasn’t always peaceful in Malathyros. Back in 1912 the worsening geopolitical situation had caused my grandfather to flee to the United States in search of a better life. Years later in WWII, the Germans occupied Crete. A monument at the church says that in 1944 German forces raided the village and killed 61 men between the ages of 13 and 72. It bears the names of three of my grandfather’s family members. One brother, Theano’s father-in-law apparently escaped the melee as he was hidden by his mother.

Looking north over the Med from Malathyros

A monument to the villagers killed August 28, 1944

Theano contacted the rest of her family and organised a dinner at her son Yiannis and his wife Eletheria’s taverna near Hania. On Monday night at least a dozen members of the Tzortzakis family gathered at a lovely little place called Eliá, named for the 200 year old olive tree that shades the large patio. About half of the family spoke some English. Everyone was very warm and friendly to us, and most curious about our lifestyle and other relatives back in the United States. It was a delightful evening with heaps of traditional Greek food, lots of gifts exchanged and plenty of Yiannis’ home made Cretan wine and tsikoudia. Dimitris invited a few of his relatives and when they arrived the volume went up a few more notches. It felt as if we had known them all our lives.

Family dinner at the taberna in Hania

We were just a week in Hania and already knew a lot of people. We had visitors nearly every night always arriving with a bottle of wine, olive oil, olives, tsikoudia or other goodies and wanting us to join them for dinner out. Bernie accused me of running for mayor.

In the summer the sun sets after 8 pm, so most Cretans don’t think about dinner till at least 9. By the time we got through courses of mezedes (appetizers), mains and the almost-obligatory send-off of watermelon and tsikoudia, we rarely left the table before midnight. Many of the little tavernas on the waterfront near the boat had live Greek music and went till at least 3 or 4 in the morning. We occasionally had to wear earplugs to get to sleep!

After spending two weeks in Hania we were well behind our planned itinerary for the cruising season (as usual) so we began to look for a weather window to head to our next stop, Santorini. Everyone kept saying, “no, no, you must stay another week!” A promise to return would grant us a temporary stay of execution.

We made a couple provisioning runs to the local supermarket, fruit stand and the traditional market. Many of the stalls in the traditional market have been taken over by vendors selling Greek knick-knacks made in China to tourists, but there are still a few stalls that sell meat, poultry, cheese, olives and baked goods much as they did early in the last century. We sampled a variety of sumptuous olives and purchased a couple kilos. We tasted Cretan cheeses and found the kefalograviera cheese to be superb so we bought a small wheel. While we were making our selections the proprietor brought out some small glasses and poured us shots of his home made tsikoudia, both plain and honey flavored. Of course he joined us. Business at the market is done the old-fashioned way and the customer goes away happy.

The Market in Hania

Saturday looked good for a dash to Santorini, about 100 miles northeast with winds forecast from the northwest at 15 to 20 knots and moderate seas.

Our plan was to get to bed early Friday and leave at first light the next morning. By the time we got through all the goodbye drinks and dinner it was midnight, but at 0630 the next morning we quietly and reluctantly slipped out of the beautiful old port of Hania with enough Cretan wine, olive oil and tsikoudia to last us a year, and fond memories to last us a lifetime.

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What kind of health insurance to you have?

Posted on July 30, 2008 by George Backhus

We have been incredibly fortunate in that none of the crew of Moonshadow have had any major health issues in sixteen years of cruising. Nonetheless, we believe strongly in health insurance, just in case.

Merima is a New Zealand citizen, and George an NZ resident, so we both have access to the country’s public health care system. This is fine when we are in New Zealand, but what happens if we need medical attention while we are away? First of all, we generally take out a comprehensive travel insurance policy to cover us for the time we are abroad. The policy provides for unlimited medical and evacuation expenses while we’re traveling and costs about US $130 a month for the two of us.

Fortunately for us, we haven’t had many experiences with local health care in the countries we’ve visited. Reports from other cruisers are generally pretty good, with the exception of a few third-world countries where medicine men still use leeches to draw out evil spirits.

The only occasion that required urgent care was in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico in 1997, when George contracted a rather nasty case of food poisoning. Fortunately, there was a modern, American-owned clinic adjacent to the marina. A couple of hours connected to an “intravenous cocktail” did the trick. The treatment was of stateside quality, and carried stateside prices.

Most of our experiences have been with simple dental checkups. George visited a dentist in Puerto Vallarta, also in 1997, where he was treated by a very professional, American-educated dentist. A checkup and cleaning cost about $25. Fast forward to 2006 and we were both treated by the very professional staff of the Bangkok Hospital in Phuket, Thailand. We both had checkups and updated our course of vaccinations. Bangkok Hospital is a state-of-the art facility and draws “medical tourism” from around the world, where people receive low-cost elective and cosmetic surgery during their Thai holiday. They even have live music in the lobby while you wait to pay the bill.

We’re strong believers in maintenance and prevention. Merima, our medical officer, keeps the medical kit well stocked and up to date. Fortunately, many drugs that would require a prescription in the States are available over-the-counter overseas. For self-treatment of minor afflictions and ailments we refer to books like Medicine for Mountaineering, The Pill Book, and occasionally The Bartender’s Guide.

 

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