Today we are due to leave Simi altogether and start northwards to Gyali. It feels like we really mean business when we get up at 6 in the pitch black, but despite the early hour we whizz through our preparation tasks and are ready earlier than planned. We set off in convoy just before 7 am. It is just light but the sun has not risen yet.
The sea is calm and there is no wind...so it is all motor–sailing. But for once it's quite a relaxed journey, and we are also relaxed because our destination is Gyali. And when we get there Gyali continues to tick the boxes. After lunch in the early afternoon we swim to the beach. We are kitted out rather cumbersomely for swimming with crocs, hats and sunglasses, as we are planning to walk over from here to the beach on the north side of the island. We make it to the beach eventually. Then off we tramp, past the chicken coop and the odd bits of abandoned machinery on this industrial island of pumice quarries. Then, the path continues downhill towards the shore and suddenly we catch the first glimpse of the stretch of breathtaking turquoise sea with a foreground of white sand, and this unfolds as we descend further. It really does look like the Caribbean. We are as thrilled today as when we first set eyes on it. This beach is magnificent: long, sandy, and ours alone. (It also seems much clearer of debris than the last times we were here – most likely thanks to wind and waves.) We return to our side of the island just to persuade our friends that it is worth the effort to come and see it, and when they return with us they are glad they listened: the water on this side of the island is much more lively, providing us with somoe great waves for jumping - something of a rarity in the Greek waters. It's a joy to swim here, or just to be here and watch the sea.
The next morning though it's onwards and (at least, on a map) upwards: we are due to head up to Kefalos, in the south of Kos, so we go for quick farewell swim in the warm waters of the bay where we are anchored, and then we are off. Today we have fun sailing, trying to capitalise on the wind. We are racing Sloop JB. Not that we told them. After a mere 2 hours, here we are in Kefalos again, but only until tomorrow, when we will move on to Emporios on Kálymnos. Just time today to check the engines, go for a bit of a walk on this hot but windy day, and then have dinner at Captain John's where the owner gives us Basic Greek Conversation lessons and we practise “what’s your name?” and “my name is”.
The 7am wake-up doesn't feel too bad today (we are finally getting the hang of it!) and we enjoy watching the sun rise as we sail away. Apart from this we find the journey a bit frustrating as with these wind conditions we cannot manage to make much headway without the engines, . During the motor-sail we do though add to our list of fantastical sightings. We spot what at first looks like a large sheet of white plastic, but then we see a huge fin as big as a shark's. And then another. Ralph rather improbably recognises the white plastic sheet with fins to be an ocean sunfish, AKA mola mola. Who knew.
I had forgotten, but Emporios bay is truly a lovely setting, surrounded almost on all sides by rocky mountains. As we watch out for our friends to arrive the afternoon sun casts everything in a warm light. We have the luxury of not moving on immediately the next day, which is just as well as we are a bit tired from the last few days of consecutive travel. It is really nice to have an easy afternoon reading, and to know that we can sleep in late tomorrow.
We spend the next day swimming and relaxing. We are moored on a buoy 200m from the beach, in quite deep dark water. The water is a bit cooler than in locations further south, but still way above 20 degrees and really pleasant once you are in. It is warm in the sun but there is quite a bit of wind – in the evening long sleeves and long trousers are called for. Our Austrian friends are due to fly back home in a few days so they have decided that Emporios will be their last stop before Kos; we on the other hand will head on to Lipsi tomorrow, another favourite haunt, and the furthest north we will reach on this trip. We say goodbye to our friends, for a second time, and head off not too late the next morning, enjoying the dreamy panorama of this bay and happy that it will be a nice short trip to Lipsi.
I loved Lipsi the first time round, with its ouzerias and octopus and its relaxed and unfussy vibe. And now again on this second visit, Lipsi makes me happy. The harbour master Manolis welcomes us very warmly – whether he recognises us or not. This time he has less work than when we last here as the harbour is mostly empty when we arrive and does not fill up to bursting like last time. Many of the restaurants are now closed, but the ouzeria on the corner of the harbour – the one with colourful chairs – is still well-frequented. We cannot resist a portion of octopus grilled on an outside barbecue. There is also some notably garlicky tsatziki, a nice salad with grapes and apple slices, and some slushy courgette fritters. It is so nice to be here!
The next day, having handed over our laundry and put out our rubbish, we are off on a tour of the island by moped. Just as the rubbish van drives off into the distance though, we realise that the ceramic chain that holds the rubbish bag in place – an essential piece of kit – has almost certainly fallen into the bag and is destined for the tip. We consider a mad chase of the rubbish truck but it looks as though we won’t catch it. So, since there is nothing we can do, and it was not a diamond ring or other heirloom, we climb onto our moped and we are off to discover Lipsi. And to get a sore coccyx.
Lipsi is tiny and the only discernable settlement of any size is the town itself, but the island is criss–crossed with small roads and paths. There are little churches dotted everywhere, on every hilltop and down near every bay it seems. Most of all, it has some very pretty bays with inviting clear, shallow water. After a few hours and some fairly hairy steep slopes and curves we have seen pretty much everything.
We have visited the homeliest church ever. It feels like someone's living room: it has carpets on the floor, and rag-rug-type coverings on the side benches; flowers of course; a collection of wooden chairs and various little side chambers. It smells pleasantly, not overpoweringly, of incense. The church nestles onto its little hill and is surrounded by potted plants on its terrace.
We have also stopped at a farm shop ostensibly selling all sorts of home-grown produce though now at the end of season offering only a few forlorn figs, a handful of sorry grapes and a lot of inscrutable pomegranates. I am slightly surprised when Ralph and the farm manager greet each other like old friends. Ralph even greets him by name, which is rather unusual (Ralph does talk to a lot of people but he would not generally remember their names so readily.) "Kostas, what happened to your hand?" Ralph asks, "You did not have that bandage on this morning in the marina", (although actually the bandage looks a bit grubby, as though it has been on for a while and farming activities have been undertaken in its presence.) Kostas confirms that yes in fact he did have the bandage on this morning but no in fact he was not in the marina today. It transpires that Ralph and Kostas do not know each other at all. But nobody seems too ruffled by the confusion, and we buy 3 pomegranates from Kostas in a gesture of support for his lovely farm.
Extraordinarily we have also managed to retrieve from the rubbish tip, which coincidentally we have driven past, our lost item! I marvel at my husband's tenacity, determination and ability to execute, as he tracks down the very bag of rubbish we relinquished only a couple of hours before, and returns, triumphant, bearing the missing article, ready for washing.
In the afternoon we return to one of the beaches. The water is still so warm, although the wind is a nuisance. I feel like the summer is slipping through our hands now very quickly and I want to hold on to it for as long as we can. I think back to those impossibly hot days in August, in Tinos especially but also in Syros and Kythnos where we longed for a break from the heat. Is it human nature to want what we don't have?
In Lipsi there is a restaurant owner who swoops down to the harbour several times a day on his moped to drum up custom for his restaurant. (I really think he must have a lookout tower on his restaurant up in the old town and spots the boats coming in.) I always assumed the restaurant must be inferior because he is so persistent, but this evening we decide to give him a chance. Our ouzeria is now closed for the season anyway and we do not have anything very inspiring in the fridge. As it turns out, the food, service and value for money are really good. We have a great meal and determine to return on our next visit.
The next 2 days are quiet. We swim. We play cards. We shop. We have aperitifs. We buy bread. I think about my mother. There is a spell of rain. There is a rainbow. The sunsets are spectacular and consoling. We make plans and discuss ideas for the next years.
We finally wrench ourselves away from gentle little Lipsi and make the short trip to Blefouti Bay on Leros. We get there within 2 hours, only the second boat in this big bay. Boat after boat arrives after us – in the end there are about 10 boats here. Ralph checks that the anchor is sitting well and declares that this will be our anchorage for the next few days. We are really winding down now (how is this possible? It seems we have been winding down for weeks and months, which may be an indication of how wound up we must have been, or that we are not very skilled in the art of winding down, or both). We don't feel motivated to chop and change between bays or hop onto the next island. This is a lovely place. Just like in Gyali, Kefalos, or Turtle bay in Simi, because of the sandy sea bed, the shallow water we are anchoring in is invitingly clear and blue. It turns out still to be warm too.
We sit on the boat on this sunny Friday afternoon with the tinkling of a hundred sheep-bells as a whole herd is brought down one hill, and up another… we sit here and count our blessings. Soon we have to get back to Kos and embark on 3 weeks of tasks. All the more reason to enjoy today, enjoy the sun, enjoy the water. By evening as we sit outside for dinner only the crickets provide the auditory backdrop. Despite the many boats everything is so still and so silent. Blefouti Bay in Leros is beautifully quiet and it is heavenly to swim here. It also provides Ralph with fantastical sightings #4: a shoal of mahi–mahi and #5: another shooting star. I swear the only herb tea Ralph has been drinking is mint or chamomile.
On Sunday we sail to Palionissos on Kálymnos: another familiar place, and another which never fails to strike me with its imposing surrounding high rock faces. The water is warmer than I was expecting and we enjoy a long swim. Ralph manages to dive down to retrieve a very large purple sea-urchin shell, about the size of my palm, from the seabed some 6m below us. I add it to my collection of two smaller ones from Emporios. We have dinner at the local tavern, where Nomiki tells us her family news, and where we hook up with a really nice couple from the Czech Republiv who we met the last time we were here.
The next day, Monday, the wind looks favourable for us to sail back southwards on our last leg to Kos marina. And so it is. Funnily enough the very last day of our tour is by far the best day’s sailing we have had since we first started out in May. We are able to sail all the way, and it is great fun.
Back in the marina it really feels like coming full circle: just like when we first started out, we are stationed nearly at the very end of pier G, just about as far from the marina services as you can get; Kaimiloa, the boat of our Dessau friends, is moored just 2 boats behind us; and just like then, now we also have lots of work on the boat ahead of us, this time to prepare Opua for the winter.
Just after we finish mooring, we spot a seal in the marina, just popping up as he passes Opua. This feels quite special – another fantastical sighting! Maybe we will see him again next year when we start all over.
Translated in German by DeepL (free version), with some tweaks. www.DeepL.com
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