Chapter 2, part 3: Snapshots of Syros

Ah, Syros! Stunning Finikas Bay; lovely clear waters; rocky coves and sandy beaches; a small, convivial marina; afternoon card games over an aperitif; early morning walks; strong winds and swell; and a most unexpectedly spectacular capital, Ermoupolis.

We stayed on Syros island for nearly a week. Not a great deal happened. This could be because we knew we would be staying for a while until the strong winds abated and/or changed direction. I think when you know you have time you can take it very easy on the tourist fronts. In fact, on all fronts. The only front where we could not really take it easy was on the mooring front – but more about that later.

We arrived late morning in Finikas Bay, a huge bay on the south of the west coast, and headed for the marina, which is tucked into a corner of the north of the bay. Although we had previously announced our arrival, it seemed there were no restrictions other than space, as to where we could moor; no one turned up to wave us to a particular berth. Ralph saw a very likely-looking gap on the outer wall, where we wanted to be (a gap which I would have sworn was too narrow; I forget that Opua is a relatively slim-hipped 17 year old) and motored skillfully into place. Some Belgian chaps on the next boat were persuaded to help us with the lines. So far, so good. The only hitch was that on this occasion our anchor winch stuck when I was letting out chain; more and more chain continued to be let out unwantedly until I could charge up to the back of the boat and dive inside to switch off the power. I suspect the winch had not been stood on continuously for 5 minutes before and was making its objections known. Later, once we were securely moored at the stern, Ralph had to haul in about 20 metres of chain manually. Still, the Belgian guys had engine failure so that would have been significantly worse.

The berth in Finikas marina provided a similar experience to the one we had just escaped in Tinos harbour, with strong winds and a big swell in the marina causing a lot of movement forwards and backwards, as well as some swinging from side to side. This drove quite a lot of activity again. Ralph unceasingly made changes to the setup of all the mooring lines to secure the boat safely and comfortably. We had to leave a generous gap between the stern of our boat and the harbour wall, and the gangway had to hover some 6 inches above the height of the pier so as not to bash down on it as the swell caused up and down rocking. Leaving the boat required some concentration and occasionally some agility.

Unbeknownst to us we had moored up at the locals’ end of the marina (the Belgian guys with the engine issues got moved to free up a space for a mate of the harbourmaster’s). We were squeezed in between super(motor)yachts which were both much higher than our boat; thankfully they had good fenders. On one side we had a dynasty from Syros, who were all very friendly and whose decision, as locals, to sit out the forecasted winds in the marina vindicated our own. On the other side we had another Greek boat with a Philippino crew. I am not sure how we managed to keep this sought-after berth, but any way it was a very short walk to the toilets and to the road round the fisher harbour and on round the whole bay.

No excuse for not hopping off the boat to go for a walk, especially first thing in the morning before it gets too hot or there is other stuff that needs doing. On the first day walking round the bay I did not get very far because I was waylaid by the discovery of a supermarket and experienced an urgent desire to purchase sundry groceries! The next day, putting temptation out of reach, I went in the opposite direction, up the hill along the coast northwards. There are lovely pebbly beaches down at the base of the cliffs, and the water is very clear. On a third occasion I managed to get all the way round the bay, following the road as it undulates, from Finikas marina, past Finikas beach, past Voulgari beach, Agathopes beach, Komito beach.  It was cool and breezy. Some early risers were already out fishing, or in the water, and some sunloungers had already been bagged. The soles of my feet were sore and my knee was killing me when I got back but I felt pretty virtuous.

A few days after arriving we booked a car for an afternoon and a morning, and set off for the main town Ermoupolis. By good luck or good fortune we found a shady parking spot in a very elegant street. We were right outside an exclusive hotel, directly overlooking the sea.

Town was a big surprise. First of all, it was very busy. Lots of traffic. Difficult to park. On the west side of the city, a large commercial harbour, and then a huge shipyard. From here to the east, the main bay fronting the town, with ferry ports and big cruise ships moored and then on the east side of the bay the poor yachts moored stern-to on the pier, facing the cafes and restaurants on the opposite side of the main road, with their terraces right outside your cockpit. I say poor because the swell from the ferries was absolutely dreadful, and because I personally do not care to have people eating practically in my cockpit.

Apart from very successfully finding a place to park (no mean feat in these busy streets) we were thwarted at everything we tried to do or see in Ermouopolis. Andyet somehow it really did not matter. I had a feeling that a lot of the attractions were rather talked-up, whereas to my mind the attraction is the town itself with its very buzzy vibe, and above all the architecture. We made our way to the art gallery, to find it closed between 12.30 and 19.30 - a surprisingly long lunchbreak, to my mind. We made our way to the main square to visit the town hall, which was indeed open, although we did not really find anything to wonder at in it. The Apollo theatre, based on the opera in Milan, was closed. The church of St Nicholas was closed. No matter. Wandering around this town alone was a revelation. This place was like no Greek town I have ever been to (though to be fair I have not been to many.) It reminded us at every corner of cities in Spain and Italy. The restored warehouse buildings in which the gallery is housed, reminded me of similar buildings in Valencia. I was variously reminded of Palermo, Naples, Sorrento and Milan though the information on the back of the free map tells me it is the Venetian influence that characterizes this town. In any case we feel as though we are in Italy. It is fascinating. We are also dumbstruck by the fact that half of the streets in the centre are paved with marble, some of which is polished by centuries of footfall: walking up or down streets on hills you have to be really careful not to slip.

From the city we drove up to Ano Syros or upper Syros, a mediaeval town in the hills. We visited the church mainly to get excellent views but guess what! Yes, the viewing platform was closed. We clambered back down the many steps and on my request entered the village at a point lower down, to find the main street. As mediaeval villages go it was surprisingly big.  Ralph’s usually faultless internal navigation is always excellent in cities, especially those with one-way systems, which he can instinctively interpret. It seems that under specific circumstances though it may fail to function. In mediaeval Greek villages at temperatures of about 35 degrees for example it may blip. We trailed round the labyrinth of narrow walkways in several circles until we did finally, at the last moment before admitting defeat, find the main street. Guess what! At 4.30pm it was dead. All shops and most eateries were shut. Luckily, we found one bar with a generous view over the main city and bay, revived ourselves with an energy drink and plodded back to the car. Next time we will not visit Ermoupolis and Ano Syros between 12:30 and 7pm. But I think we will come here again.

Perhaps it was all the Italian architecture but we were really in mind for a pizza. Ralph, his internal navigation system once again restored for city navigation, found a perfect parking spot, and we enjoyed a pizza that was nearly as good as in Italy. And then, home again, home again, and back to our quiet wee harbour.

On the second day of hire car we had a satisfyingly successful 4 hours into which we packed a great deal. After a quick drive-by sightseeing of the west coast, we returned to the capital to do 2 loads of washing and drying in the launderette; get a haircut; take in an exhibition; purchase mosquito netting in a hardware store and 2 mugs in a kitchen shop; go to a butcher's shop; do some supermarket shopping and fill up with petrol. Oh and in the meantime a moped driver car bumped into the back of our hire car and scratched it, so we had to clear this with the rental company too. Luckily the rental car lady is a saint. She had given us about a kilo of fresh figs from her garden when we rented the car and now here she was was patiently waiting for us when we brought the car back 15 minutes late.

The Meltemi is a big monster baby and while we were in Syros he seemed pretty inconsolable, wailing and raging all day. Sitting the boat in the marina we were treated to a symphony with the roaring and whistling of the wind; the creaks and groans emitted by the mooring lines; squeaks from the fenders squished between the boats; the huge mournful whale-like bellows from the next-door super yacht as its ropes creaked with the back and forth of the swell. Cicadas clinging to the foresail chipped in with their chirping.

We do quite a lot of staying on the boat, observing its behaviour. We are also party to the activity on the main pier of the marina and observe scenes unfolding.

In the late afternoon a family with small children dressed in their lifejackets return bedraggled from a swim. Dad holds a pack of eggs so we can guess what is for dinner. There is a babble from the marina bar and snippets of conversations from people round us on their boats or walking past. In the evening the several Philippino crews of the big Greek super yachts gather and sit round a picnic table under a streetlight. There is a meeting point too round one of the concrete benches, for the more elderly community. Someone is grilling shrimps (smells delicious!)  A man drives along the pier on a moped and someone else whizzes silently on an electric scooter. There is some friendly barking of dogs. This is a happy place.

We were happy to be here but during the time we were moored in the marina we had seen numerous boats anchored in the bay without apparently struggling with the strong winds. We decided to try it out; perhaps it would be more comfortable for us. So a day or so before we planned to head off, as the wind and swell were still present, we asked our immediate neighbours to stand by with extra fenders and a watchful eye as we left the mooring, which they kindly did. We anchored then east of the marina, in the same bay, for 2 nights. We were very comfortable, at anchor, no jerking back and forth; no swinging first one way and then the other, just the gentle sway and dance with the wind. And so we could finally relax and get a good night’s sleep, with no harbour wall or superyacht to avoid bashing into.

And now, since nothing much happened in Syros, allow me to recount a little anecdote. We moored the dinghy in the harbour one day. We talked to the fisherman there who was cleaning his nets ready for the evening, stamping on the shells and shaking out debris caught up in there. He told us he had caught only 5 fish in his 1 Km of nets the previous night and was convinced that dolphins had got the rest. Did he mean the dolphins had eaten them out of the nets? Or that the waters were generally overfished by dolphins? Was it a plaidoyer for eating dolphins? I was not sure. In any case it seems that there are not many fish to be caught, although we ourselves have only seen three dolphins since we arrived in February. It is an interesting if surprising theory. I determine to see more dolphins before the end of the season. Perhaps we can check out if they are looking particularly sleek and well-fed.

 

Translated to German with DeepL (free version): DeepL.com, with some tweaks