Here we are again, back on the boat for Chapter 2, in a heatwave.
When I wake it is already hotter outside than in, so we have missed the chance to air the boat; opening the door is like opening an oven. We need to adopt Mediterranean practices: air early morning, then close all the windows and doors and pull down the blinds.
There is no breeze on this first day back. My phone tells me it is 37 degrees in Kos and “feels warmer”. It certainly does. We feel as though we are just melting. The sailmaker affixes the new black shades to the outside of the saloon windows. We hope it will make a bit of difference.
In this heat we don’t feel much like cooking. The need is for something easy, cold, salty…the temptation is go all Mexican and tuck into nachos and salsa washed down with margaritas. So that's what we do, but with beer instead of margaritas as we have no ice (or any other margarita ingredients for that matter), plus homemade guacamole, salsa, and garlic shrimps. If we do melt we will leave a garlic residue.
What was a perfect berth for Opua when we were absent - the first slot at the first pier, directly opposite Skippers (the bar/restaurant/café), is somewhat less than perfect now that we are back on the boat. It is very sheltered in the near corner, so particularly warm. It is on full display for all cafégoers and passersby. In the evening Skippers is thronging and Friday night is particularly lively and loud. Their pet parrot continues to squawk loudly from time to time.
Sleep in these conditions is an improbable dream, but we remember we have a small aircon unit that brings the temperature in or cabin down by one or two degrees. It is a thirsty machine, consuming half a litre of water every few hours and needing to be topped up in the night. But while we are in the marina and connected to power it’s worth a try, even though its thrum only adds to the noise from Skippers.
The wind picks up on Saturday afternoon so now we are air-dried as well as steamed and roasted. And so, thoroughly cooked, and with the wind now dancing in the palms, it's time for us to leave. Early on Sunday morning in the quiet of a marina not yet awake, we prepare the boat for the off. Staff at the Skipper restaurant are just arriving to put out the cushions. The first sleepy sailors are sloping off to the showers. And with the help of the marinero to release our mooring lines and guide us out of the marina, we head off towards our first stop, familiar Palionisos on Kálymnos, a 4 hour trip.
An uneventful journey, but it is nice to be back on the water. And then on arrival there are the little things to do: pump up the dinghy, empty the extra fridge of tonic water as all the Schweppes cans inherited from the last owner, which we have not had the heart to throw away have burst; put up the shades. One of the ties for the shades has frayed through and needs replacing; my chickpeas to make falafel need to be boiled inspite of their 24-hour soaking...And so life on the boat starts up again. We swim to the shore and back. We make daily pilgrimages to Nomiki’s tavern to repay use of the buoy. We plan and replan the route, and then plan and replan some more. We watch the wind. The sun shades go up and get taken down. One day we have lunch at Nomiki’s instead of dinner so that we can stay on the boat when the strong winds come at 7pm. Luckily the buoy provides a firm hold and although the wind is very loud and very strong, it is at best a nuisance.
On Wednesday we take advantage of a break in the wind to head for Samos. A little marina on the west of the south coast, called Ormos Marathocampos, should provide us with a great base over the next week or so. While the forecasted wind rages this week, we should be tucked in with good shelter and will be able to enjoy the island.
I am charmed by the little marina here. It is very picturesque, very tranquil, red roofs set in green against the backdrop of a rocky grey mountain. In the foreground here is the main part of the village with its row of restaurants along the front and the small harbour basins with colourful fisherboats. It is small and intimate. But there isn’t a whiff of a breeze and it is so blazing hot, we sit in the cockpit with the sunshades down. Come the late afternoon, with the heat showing no signs of letup, the only sensible thing to do is to cool off in the sea. The closest beach is small and pebbly. It's actually part of the big harbour. At this time of day the pensioners gather in the water and stand in a circle chating for hours in the cool.
To celebrate our arrival in a safe and enchanting place we have dinner out, sitting under the tamarisk trees at taverna Trata on the pebbly beach. The food is really good. We have courgette fritters with skordalia (a potato dip with lots of garlic), followed by fried anchovies and grilled squid. Heaven!
The only thing I don’t like here is the fact that there is a scared and barking dog tethered outside the toilet facilities. Also on one occasion my morning, and my joyful anticipation of having clean bedding, is also temporarily soured by a ruckus concerning the rules for the use of the washing machine. Hell always was other people. We keep to ourselves and do some tasks on the boat. Although we are not even a week into our sailing it actually feels much longer. I don’t know if this is a good or a bad thing.
The heat remains but the stillness of the first day does not. The wind picks up. Anything we can finally wash dries in the very hot wind within minutes. We try out an additional shade, which is like an awning that we span over the saloon roof to keep the sun off. It brings a noticeable difference of one or two degrees to the temperature. But just as we are enjoying dinner (at the same tavern; it is impossible not to come here again) the wind starts to blow very strongly. We scuttle back to the boat to find that the gangway has been blown upwards; Ralph has a struggle to get back onto the boat and then we have to rush round taking down the awning and rolling up all the shades round the cockpit, along with all blowawayable items.
On Friday we manage to get a car for an island tour. (Not a very suitable car, as it turns out, as it is quite uncomfortable, and Samos is a big island.) We head to some sites of interest near Pythagoreio on the east of the south coast. As we drive inland across the island we are struck by the greenness. Everywhere is green. The hills, the valleys, the plains. We stop to take in Pythagoreio and check out the harbour for future reference. It is a pretty town (Ralph says think St Tropez) and it’s pretty busy. Down at the harbour, there's one restaurant after another, and facing them hundreds of yachts packed in like proverbial sardines. We have a fresh orange juice and watch the bustling before moving on.I think this might be a nice place to do some shopping, but I would absolutely not fancy mooring here.
We book a ticket for our sightseeing point of interest number one – a 6th century BC engineering marvel – and use the time before the tour starts to tick off sightseeing point of interest number two – Panagia Spilani monastery. It is pleasant to while away a bit of time here in the quiet shade, admiring the views over the wide planes round Pythagoreio. The monastery, its cypruses and its views are beautiful but the real star piece for sheer size and uniqueness is the massive cave in the mountain, inside which, at the end of a wide and walkable natural tunnel, is a small church and a baptismal font.
The tunnel Eupalinus engineered back all those 2500 plus years ago is even more impressive: a tunnel of some 800m hewn out of limestone from two ends. The tunnel was built to carry water from the reservoir above, down to the ancient town of Samos. Somehow old Eupalinus managed to calculate it so that the ends met in the middle, with a discrepancy of only 43cm.
Both of our midday sightseeing points have had the advantage of providing a respite from the heat. How clever of us. Because although it is no longer 37 degrees out there it is still quite warm enough. We finish our tour of the tunnel (along one way and back, regrettably, the same way) and hand in our hard hats, which have protected us from several bangs on the low ceilings of the tunnel. It is now 2pm and we are starving. As we head east we catch sight of a striking long white beach on the south coast which we surmise must be Psili Ammos, and decide to check it out. As we drive the coastal road we pass a long narrow beach with white shingle. It is largely unserviced and unfrequented, apart from a couple of tavernas. We continue to Psilli Ammos with its white sand beach. Here we are a stone's throw from Turkey, which in fact provides the backdrop to the idyllic bay. We enjoy the views from a taverna overlooking the beach and are revived by lunch. (Who could fail to be revived by “drunk meatballs” in their ouzo-based sauce?) In our time, Ralph and I have seen many beaches but we think this must count as one of the nicest.
After lunch we have little capacity for more sightseeing. The long bumpy drive, and the heat, are taking their toll. We drive back via another popular tourist destination, Kokkari on the north coast, and catch glimpses of brilliant sea flashing between the buildings as we pass through. Maybe next time! We are relieved to get back and hand over the keys for the Suzuki Jeep.
We intersperse the sightseeing of the island with some days at Ormos Marathocampos. Ralph successfully troubleshoots an issue we have been having with the AIS. When cabin fever strikes – as it must – we go for a walk further along the coast. It is monstrously hot and rather windy. The sea is beautifully clear, a bit cool on entry, and very refreshing. We sit under a tree and feel like Robinson Crusoe. As the afternoon progresses the wind continues to blow very strongly. At some point in the late evening there is a lull, the windman is just catching his breath before the next outburst. And then he blows hard and loud all night. We are tied up pretty well and we feel safe – in the end this is what we pay for in the marina: peace of mind.
We watch the forecasts regularly to see when we can leave. Not because we are not enjoying it here but because there are other places to see. The slot to leave again keeps shifting, but it now looks as though on Wednesday we can head off.
Since we still have time on Samos and there is a lot to see, we hire a (different) car for a second day of sightseeing. On this second trip the greenness continues to impress. We start back in Kokkari to see why it's popular. I like it well enough, with its little port; Ralph is not taken but we both agree that the beach is gorgeous. We eat a piece of over-sweet orange pie and a slice of over-firm cheesecake and enjoy the colours of the sea and sand.
We deviate from sightseeing to find a post office in the main town, Samos (also known as Vathy). I have been told that this is the only post office on the island, and while this seems unlikely, I would like this birthday card to arrive within the next 4 weeks. It is a 30 minute wait in line, and then fingers crossed for the birthday card!
After this we return to Psili Ammos for a quick dip, which is marvelous, and some refreshing fruit juice and watermelon. Then back into the car. We head towards the mountain village of Manolates - what a hairy ride! The village is at the top of a very steep and curving road. Although we did not know specifically what to expect we find that Manolates was worth the effort, not so much I think the village itself, though a picturesque assembly of steep narrow pathways and steps. But it provides us with the perfect lunch just in the nick of time, in the perfect shady little square.
Last tourist stop is at Vakakis winery somewhere up in the countryside in the north east of the island. We have just enough time to leg it there for our 5pm appointment. The countryside is different again here, very wooded. Sitting at a big table in the cool of the ancient cottage with its thick stone walls, now converted to receive paying guests, we taste a few wines and nibble a few olives, and chat to a nice Swedish couple before returning home via the supermarket.
Samos is very lush. It is so green. It has stunning coves and beaches, for example on the north coast, west of Kokkari. There are still a lot of tourist activities to do – we have not made it yet to the waterfalls at Potami; I would like to see more of the north east of the island which is very wooded. Also the mountain town of Mavratei and the scenic roads in the centre of the island for example between Pyrgos and Hora. We did not visit the beaches in the east or drive the scenic route towards Posidonio on the eastern tip. I think this is definitely an Auf Wiedersehen, Samos.
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