Kastos Ramblers Club

It was one of those moments that you wonder if you had engaged brain before opening mouth.  You know the sort of thing.  You maiden aunt/sister/best mate phones you up and says “My sink’s blocked/husband’s left me/coming out for a swift half” and you reply “Of course I’ll come and unblock it/there, there, come and stay here for a bit/yeah that sounds like a great idea”.  Then your brain catches up with your mouth and you think “What!!!!  You plonker!  Unblocking sinks is bad news/I can’t stand the thought of her in the house for the next lord knows how long/Swift half my a***, swift half gallon more like it and then I’ll have to help him home.”  We’ve all done it and this was one of those moments. 

'Curly Sue', the nearest boat to the camera. She's ketch, with 2 masts instead of just one. She belongs to Andy and Sue.

We were moored to the quay in Kastos harbour, quietly dying in the heat of the mid afternoon after a brilliant morning’s sail round from Nidri.  I was idly thinking of what we could have been doing if the temperature was a little less life threatening and the thought popped unbidden into my mind.  If we were back in UK, it would have been a good day to go for a walk.  Why couldn’t we go for one here?  Well, the obvious answer came back; ‘cos it’s too f****ing hot!  How to solve this problem mused the now befuddled brain?  Why, we could rise early in the morning and go for a walk before the heat became unbearable.

Without pausing for further reflection, my mouth opened and I declared to J; “Let’s go for a walk tomorrow morning before it gets too hot to move.”  My brain now caught up with me but too late.  I couldn’t back out of such an offer, especially as J had fixed on it like a shot.

Three quarters of the kastos Ramblers Club; Julia, Sue and Andy.

So there I was.  Committed to rising from my pit at a time I had tried to forget even existed, putting on my walking boots and tramping off over a Greek island in the pursuit of…. what?  Then I had another thought.  I might not be able to wriggle of this myself but I could, perhaps, lessen the pain by spreading it round a bit.  What a cunning concept!  Who could I target?

Just then, Andy and Sue appeared in their tender, spreading joy and happiness, as their arrival provided the perfect excuse to open a bottle of plonk and relax.  After they’d both had a couple of glasses and were relaxed, I sprang the ambush.  “We’re off for a walk tomorrow morning, before it gets too hot.  Would you like to come too?” I said, “We’re not going too far, just head up the coast a bit and see what it looks like from the other point of view.”

Andy and Sue looked at one another like I’d just revealed that I was, in fact, Lord Lucan.  I thought, damn, that’s another fine plan that won’t work.  But they smiled at one another and Andy proved that he is not quite as switched on as I thought by saying “Well, I wake at about 7 every day, so that sounds like a good idea.”

And so it was that the Kastos Ramblers Club came into being.

We met the following morning at about 7.15 and tramped off through the village and headed north.  We found the coast road (not difficult, as there is only 1 road leading out of the village) and we walked along it, chatting about this and that and enjoying the cool of the morning.  The cicadas were making a fearsome racket in the trees and there were some stunning views over the sea towards mainland Greece.

South kastos - not even a goat track

After walking for about an hour and a half, we came to a side track leading up into the hills and followed it for about ½ a mile.  It lead to a little church but there wasn’t even a goat track leading on from it, so we retraced our steps back down to the coast road and (since by then it was starting to get distinctly hot,) thence back to the harbour.  We arrived back at about 10am feeling hot and tired but quietly virtuous and rather smug.

Once back on board our boats, I think that the fatigue-poisons in our blood must have affected our better judgment, as we all agreed to meet again at the same time the following day to have a look at the southern end of the island.  I can think of no other argument for this agreement other than a momentary lapse of reason.

These guys had the right idea - come by boat!

So, bright dawned the day as we rose from our pits at 7 am (yes that’s right 7 am – last time I saw that on the clock it was before waking J up to come on watch as we made the crossing from Italy).  J had looked out her walking shoes and I had my boots on, when Andy and Sue appeared on the deck of Curly Sue looking as shell shocked as we were and we set off through the village. 

This time we headed south and made our way down the road, which soon degenerated into a simple bulldozer scrape through the hillside.  Nothing daunted, we carried on in the expectation that the road must go somewhere….. after all, we had come upon the occasional house and for this reason, kept telling ourselves that there had to be a road nearby.  This proved to be a totally false premise.

All too soon we were greeted by the end of the track in the middle of nowhere.  This time, however, there was the semblance of a goat track heading on down towards the south of the island.  So, without much thought (oh, the benefit of 20/20 hindsight) we bumbled off down the track, dodging piles of goat and donkey droppings as we went, feeling quite like explorers in a vast trackless wilderness.

All too soon, we ran out of goat track and foolishly decided to press on to the next ridge line to see what was there, as Andy was convinced that there was a road somewhere on the western side of the island which should be just over the ridge….. (It’s worth pointing out here that Kastos is all of about 500 metres wide at this point.)  So we picked our way through the very prickly undergrowth towards the ridge.  Now, the walkers amongst you will already know what’s coming.  The ‘ridge’ was but a false crest, a bump in the hillside obscuring the next ‘ridge’.  Nevertheless, we pushed on through increasingly dense maquis and gained that one.  At least this ridge gave us some lovely views down into a bay where a couple of yachts were anchored.

Andy, happy to have found somewhere to walk that wasn't shredding his legs.

By this time, logic had started to kick in with the party and we decided that it would be best to stop trying to cross the island and make our way back north a bit.  This proved a little easier than trying to cross the grain of the island and we made satisfactory progress for a couple of hundred metres.  Then we ran into an impenetrable belt of undergrowth and therefore headed back down hill, following yet another goat track.

Duncan and Sue don't think much of Andy's path.......

This proved to be both our undoing and our salvation.  Our undoing; as I brushed past a tree, some nasty flying beastie stung me and then stung Andy as he followed me.  Our salvation: there was the original goat track, leading back to the ‘road’, so we could at least make our way back to the boat without any further meanderings in the old olive groves.

The mini harbour on the west of Kastos, reached after much searching in the scrub. Port Leone on Kalamos in the background.

We headed back towards the road and, as we did so, I looked to the west and saw, on the western shore of the island, a small quay about ½ mile away.  Running away from the quay to the north was a road and what’s more, there was a well defined track leading down to the road – well – ish.  We’d walked past this point about an hour earlier as we headed south but had completely failed to spot it because we’d be busy looking in the opposite direction at a shuttered up little holiday home, utterly convinced that there must be a road nearby.  So we quickly made out way down the track to the road, which climbed back up on to the top of the island and lead back to the village.  Result.

The 'Whomping Olive' a massive old olive tree we came across.

Now you know all about the KRC.  Not some sort of right wing militia or what have you, but a bunch of nutters in the style of the Almond Blossom Appreciation Society (see the book of the same name by Chris Stewart), albeit without the drinking.

Rainclouds gather over Kastos village - it rained heavily for 3 hours about 20 minutes after this was taken.

A quick post script.  We are now in Messilonghi, a small town on the northern shore of the Gulf of Patras.  We’ve decided to book in here for the winter because it’s cheap, the town is very close and a ‘proper’ Greek town and links to the rest of the world are reasonable.  More details later.

Life’s Little Trials

Today, we are back in Port Kastos, having visited Frikes on Ithaca, Port Leone on Kalamos and Nidri on Levkas not once but twice since we left you here last time, so I need to fill you in on our meanderings between the last blog and today.

The previous blog left us here on Kastos, where we stayed 3 nights, because it was too much like hard work to leave and move on somewhere else! In addition, the place is just beautiful. There is a small shop, where the bread is fetched each morning by boat from the mainland, a collection of tavernas round the harbour and a restaurant called Chef John’s up on the hill, looking out over the bay to the east. Eventually, the front water tank ran dry and, as there’s no water available of Kastos, we decided that it was time to move on to somewhere that we knew we could fill up.

The coastline of Kastos island

After a good deal of looking at charts and pilot books, we decided we’d go back to Frikes on Ithaca. For one thing, it’s a really nice little port. Then there’s a water tanker that comes round so we could fill up with water. There are garbage bins there, so we could dump the rubbish that we’d accumulated in Kastos (no bins there either – take your rubbish away with you!) and there’s Kiki’s supermarket, which not only stocks such delicacies as Patak’s Curry Pastes but also does washing at €6 a load. Oh, and there’s some nice restaurants and the place itself is just lovely.

So we set off at a reasonable hour and headed across the open sea between Kastos and Ithaca. It was only about 12 miles in total and took us about 2 ½ hours to do the trip, getting us into the harbour by about 1230. There was a space on the outer quay, so we moored up alongside and settled down to wait for the afternoon wind, which duly arrived, blowing across the harbour from the shore, keeping us cool but pinning Rampage neatly to the quay.

Then things started to go downhill a bit. We knew that we’d end up with other boats rafted up on Rampage but weren’t prepared to be the host to another 4 boats from a Nielson flotilla moored up outside us! But it was J’s birthday, so we had a great supper in one of the tavernas and retired to bed after a lovely evening out. Sleep, however, was interrupted that night, as people arrived back on board the other boats through the long, long night; the last couple stumbling back on board at about 4.30! Thankfully, most of this didn’t impact on me but J didn’t sleep well at all. I did wake up to hear a drunken conversation between a couple on a bench on the harbour wall to the effect that “you don’t love me anymore” – to which I was tempted to reply “and neither do I, put a sock in it and go to bed” but J stopped me!

The first two flotilla boats are rafted to Rampage on our second night in Frikes

It was for these reasons that we made it very clear, when approached by another flotilla leader the following afternoon, that anyone rafting up to us should make an effort to be quiet once we had retired for the night and that at all times people must remove their shoes. I am sure we came across as grumpy old curmudgeons but we really didn’t care and the message seemed to go in as the flotilla leader ensured that it was only boats with families that rafted up to us – less likely to be up ‘til the wee small hours!

We left Frikes after 2 days and returned to Nidri, in part to say farewell to Bern and Alan who were about to return to UK and in part to go to the chandlery to get a replacement wind indicator, as the old one had finally refused to play any more.

A passing vessel which Duncan admired during our trip from Frikes to Nidri

We spent 3 nights there. One day we did little other than arrive and have drinks ashore with Alan and Bern, the next day J climbed the mast but to her frustration, couldn’t manage to undo the old wind indicator, so I was then hoisted up to do the job – bit of a difficult task actually, requiring drilling new holes and all sorts of fun. (NB I’ll probably have to go back up there again as the damn thing has come loose!) Other friends, Susan and Andy aboard Curly Sue also happened to be in Nidri again and that evening, they invited us to join a group of about 14 others for supper at a taverna set in the hills looking down on Nidri. We had a great time and I don’t remember much of the walk back down to the boats….

You'll just have to trust us on this one - that really is Duncan at the top of the mast and not someone else we happened to see!

The following day we hired a scooter again – this time to explore the island of Levkas. The interior of the island is quite spectacular and it is much cooler up in the hills. However, we wound up doing the best part of 150km that day – frankly too far to be comfortable and in addition we stupidly did not stop frequently enough! That evening we joined Bern and Alan for a final meal together before they set off at 04:30 next morning to catch the 07:00 bridge opening at the top of the Levkas canal.

One of the lovely views we captured while on our scooter trip around Levkas island

We had intended to leave that day but in the end stayed on until last Wednesday, (20th July) which is when we went to Port Leone, a deserted corner of the island of Kalamos, a deep bay on the south eastern end of the island. Once there was also a small village here; a farming and fishing community that had probably been here since forever. However in the 1953 earthquake, not only did the roofs fall in but the wells and springs all went dry, so there was little option left to the inhabitants but to move elsewhere. Today, all that remains of the village are some ruined buildings and the church which seems to be undergoing restoration work at the moment; a taverna that until a few years ago, used to open during the summer to feed the yacht crews that came to anchor here, sadly now looks very closed.

We arrived there, having had a good sail round from Nidri. The wind picked up as we left the anchorage and we managed to sail most of the way here. Indeed, the reason we had left Nidri was to escape from a forecast blow that was due to arrive that evening, so we wanted to be somewhere sheltered and quiet.

One of the olive processing buildings in the ruined and deserted village at Port Leone

The bay at Port Leone is such that it is best to drop anchor and then take a line ashore to hold the boat in place, rather than swinging round the anchor. This was accomplished without too much hassle and we settled down for a relaxing afternoon before the wind got up. As we had entered the bay, our anchoring point was carefully selected so that, in theory, the westerly wind that was predicted would be blowing from the shore to us; not blowing us on shore or from one side or the other….. Dream on. The wind in this part of the world does just what it wants to do, not what it is expected to do. Mostly, this is caused by the shape of the islands. The wind may be, in general terms, a westerly but as it hits the western side of the island, the peaks and valleys of the island funnel it into a completely different direction by the time if gets to the other side. So the wind was not arriving on the stern of the boat, but blowing heartily into the side. The result was that the anchor popped out and we started to move back towards the shore at an alarming rate of knots. Luckily, the engine was running to charge the battery, so we put the engine in gear and used it to hold the boat away from the shore line until we had got something sorted out.

As an aside, we had just bought ourselves a brand new kedge (or spare) anchor. When we left UK, we had fitted the boat up with a 14kg Danforth anchor. Having now used this a number of times, it was obvious that we either needed a lighter anchor or some method of recovering it into the boat that didn’t entail me hauling the thing up by brute force; J was starting to get a bit fed up with rubbing my back with embrocation after such events. Instead, while in Nidri we decided to buy an aluminum anchor called a Fortress. Looks much like its predecessor but only weighs about 3kg!

A praying mantis hitching a ride on the old anchor

The main anchor having popped out meant that this was the time to try out the new anchor. We rigged it all up, put the motor on the tender and I then set off and dropped it out in front of Rampage. This stabilised things enough for me to put on diving gear and drop down to reset the main anchor and double-check on the Fortress. All that done, we were now stable and ready to sit out whatever the weather had to throw at us. As I swam back to the boat, I was asked by our neighbour to check their anchor out as well, so all in all I got quite a good dive out of the afternoon!

The wind continued to build throughout the late afternoon and evening, making the rigging sing quite melodiously and Rampage occasionally lurched as a gust hit but we weren’t much disturbed by the wind and got a reasonable night’s sleep. Next day, we stayed put, as the wind was forecast to remain quite strong, although it didn’t really materialize to the extent forecast.

Looking down on Tranquil Bay, Nidri

We then headed back once more to Nidri, as we were concerned that the batteries were just not holding their charge and thought we might need to replace them. The root cause, I suspect, is the fact the they are relatively high tech types and are not really designed for the heat we’re subjecting them to in this part of the world. We decided to motor all the way back to Nidri in order to put a good charge onto the batteries and then see how they coped over the following 24 hours or so. In the event I came to the conclusion that I simply wasn’t running the engine enough to charge them properly. In any event, we have postponed buying new batteries for the time being, thus ducking a significant expense, at least for now. The journey was not wasted however as we met up once more with Andy and Susan aboard Curly Sue. We have been chatting for a while now about heading off together towards the Gulf of Patras, stopping at Kastos first – which is more or less where we came in!

Before we left Nidri, we went to a night out at the local Paladium; the expat community getting together to lay on some entertainment and raise funds for a local charity. We went with little expectation, secure in the knowledge we could duck out at half time if it was too dire. In the event, we had a great evening, with acts that varied from a take off of the Darcey Bussle/Dawn French mirror sketch to some great music and singing.

Curly Sue enjoying the sail from Nidri on Levkas down here to Port Kastos

We had a cracking sail down to Kastos Port today, getting Rampage up to 7 – 7.5 knots as we came down past Kalamos and round the southern tip of Kastos. Arriving before Curly Sue, we were lucky to get the last remaining berth on the town quay when we arrived but helped Andy and Sue moor up on the northern quay before retiring for a siesta….

A donkey here on Kastos - included for our grand-daughter, Jessica, who likes donkeys!

Tomorrow we aim to rise early and have walk round the island before it gets too hot, then move on south to Meganisi the next day. Keep watching for the next thrilling installment!

A cicada (we think!) laying her eggs

Anybody here seen Captain Correlli or his mandolin?

"Rampage" in the noonday heat with as much shade up as possible!

Having dropped Jinny off in Zakinthos last Thursday, (23^th June,) J and I decided to head back north to Cephalonia and then amble our way back towards the island of Lefkas before looking at the islands between there and the mainland.  This is, I suspect, a little trying for those of you who are geographically challenged, so below are a couple of maps showing our travels since arriving in this part of the Ionian.

Southern Ionian Sea and our travels. Click on map to see a bigger image.

Northern part of the southern Ionian and our travels. Click on map for larger image.

One of the reasons for heading to Cephalonia was that the forecast was for increasing northerly winds which you will know by now we don’t do if we can avoid them.  Poros is a nice, protected little port which would be a good place to sit out the forecasted blow.  We left bright and early (well, earlyish) on Friday morning and had a brilliant days sailing.  The wind started off in the north and moved round to westerly as the day went on, which meant that we sailed virtually all the way from Zakinthos to Poros; only the last mile or so was done on the motor.  Really very satisfying and a rare day in this part of the world, where the wind always seems to be either dead on the nose of where we want to go or is blowing a gale.

We moored in Poros and had a good night’s sleep before the wind started to pick up on Saturday morning.  By mid afternoon, the forecast gale had arrived and the harbour was beginning to get quite full of boats running from the wind.  As luck would have it, we were the boat on the windward end of the quay and mid afternoon, our anchor broke out and we had to move off the quay to reset it.  After 4 attempts, it was clear that the thing would not reset in the very churned up bottom of the harbour, so we moored alongside the quay until the wind abated a little as the sun started to go down.  We then made another attempt and got the thing to bite well and hold.  We then put out the kedge anchor as well and that sorted the problem, along with several extra ropes to the quayside.

The next day was very windy again but by Monday things had quietened down and we decided to move north to a bay called Andi Sami, about 6 miles up the coast.  The bay is quite large and has a lovely sandy beach and as the winds were not forecast to return, we thought it would be a nice break from harbours.  In the event, we got there, dropped anchor, had lunch and a swim and then the winds started playing silly tricks; our anchor popped out as the wind shifted through 180 degrees and blew at about 20 mph.  We decided that enough was enough and headed to Agios Efmia, about 4 miles away, which we’d visited the previous week with Jinny.  The wind continued to build but, in typical fashion, was blowing from where we wanted to get to, so we had to motor all the way.

J & I at the Blue Hole at Melissani

The quay at Agios Efmia is quite high, we berthed bow to as it’s much easier to get on and off that way.  This involves using the kedge anchor and it’s not always obvious from the shore that you’ve dropped an anchor at all.  So as we headed into the quay, the little Greek harbour master was leaping up and down telling us to stop and drop our anchor, when we’d already done it some distance out; in fact, I got the distance dead on as there was no spare rope left by the time we got to the quay.  The harbour master is an officious little chap but very helpful, insisting that we put extra lines out and making sure we were properly secure before moving on to supervise the next arrival.

View looking down onto the Assos penisula which we visited on our scooter tour of Cephalonia

We stayed in Agios Efmia for 3 nights, as we hired a scooter on Wednesday and did a tour round the island, visiting all the main centres including a the blue hole at Melisanni.  The map below shows where we went and there are some photos as well.

Scooter trip round Cephalonia

Thursday dawned bright and still a bit breezy but we’d had enough of Agios Efmia and had decided to head for Sivota on the island of Lefkas.  We’d been there before on our sailing course but J couldn’t remember the place at all.  On the way there, the batteries suddenly announced that they were flat and the autopilot quit on us because of it.  So, having sailed all the way there by hand steering, we decided to use the pontoon by the Yacht Bar, as they provide electricity.  We moored there by late afternoon and soon had the flattened batteries on charge from the mains.  The charger was working overtime with its cooling fans blowing most of the evening. 

Sivota harbour

The next morning, I checked over the alternator and found that the drive belt was a bit loose, so with that tightened, the batteries are charging much better than before.  We moved off the pontoon on to the town quay (free!) and then wound up anchored off in the centre of the harbour when, once again, the anchor broke free, this time whilst we were out for a walk, so Rampage was bumping the quay wall when we got back, luckily not causing any damage.

We had been having a bit of a debate about where to go next and decided to return to Tranquil Bay in Nidri, as there are good shops there where we could restock with some basics and there are a couple of chandlers where we could get hold of some bits we need.  It’s only about 7 miles from Sivota to Nidri, so we got there about lunch time.  Our friends, Alan and Bern, have made it their base for the summer and J took them by surprise by swimming across to join them on board; I took the dinghy across a bit later to pick her up.

We reckon on staying here for a few days before moving on to explore some of the other islands.  The weather at the moment is hot but fairly windy so we are swinging about a fair bit on the anchor.  Most days, the wind dies away with as the sun goes down but I suspect that we may not get the usual peaceful night tonight.  Ah well, can’t have it all can you?…

… This entry has been a little neglected, as it got quite busy whilst we were in Nidri.  Bern and Alan took us into Lefkas town on the bus and we had a good wander round the place before visiting the local Volvo stockist to enquire about some bits for the engine.  They could get them for us but I was staggered by the cost – nearly €90 for a bit of hose – so we left without buying anything.  In the end, I found some high pressure hose in one of the chandlers in Nidri for a fraction of the cost of the proper job.

We had intended to set off the next day to go round to Meganissi and join some friends there for the evening.  In the event, Alan and Bern turned up at Rampage as we surfaced from a good night’s sleep to say that they’d got a problem with their propeller and were planning on returning to Gouvia to get the thing fixed.  After listening to the problem, I realised that all that was required was to replace the anode with a new one.  The local chandlery was able to sell us one at a very reasonable price and I spent a happy hour or so in scuba gear with Alan (who had borrowed J’s set) removing the propeller and the remnants of the old anode, getting the girls to clean the prop up before fitting a new anode and replacing the prop.  We also cleaned off a lot of growth from the bottom of the hull of Sanuk before taking the gear to a nearby pontoon to wash it down with fresh water.   There I happened upon a rotund gentleman hailing from the Thames estuary who had a brand new baby compressor and was looking for someone to show him how to use it.  Several hours later we’d filled four cylinders (two of which were mine,) and I trust he now understands how to use it.

Supper at "The Island" restaurant in Nidri with Bern and Alan

It was too late by then to move on that day and besides Bern and Alan had kindly offered to take us out for dinner so we eventually left Nidri last Wednesday, (6^th July.)  We spent that night in a beautiful bay just south of Port Atheni on Meganissi.  There were a few boats there when we arrived but by 7pm we had the bay to our selves.  It was utterly peaceful – no buildings, not even a road down to the beach.  Next morning after her swim, J decided to clean up the mess made all over the roof by a passing gull.  Unfortunately, in her enthusiasm, she started lobbing buckets of sea water about without checking that the hatches were closed.  Even my exited yells from below didn’t seem to deter her initially but eventually I managed to convey the scale of the problem!  It took us an hour and a half to dry out the chart table and lockers under the passage berth while the seat cushions sat in the sun to dry. 

Port Kalamos

We then pressed on to Port Kalamos on the island of Kalamos.  Kalamos is a very pretty little harbour but by evening it is full to the brim with flotilla boats, rafted up four or five deep, whose antics while mooring provide endless amusement for the rest of us.  We stayed a couple of nights and then yesterday we headed east attracted by the description in the pilot book, to the town of Astakos on the Greek mainland.  All we can say is if you’re ever in the area – don’t bother!  It was noisy, smelly and very run down so this morning we hightailed out of there and by lunchtime today we were safely tucked up in Porto Kastos on the island of Kastos. 

Kastos with the fishing boat harbour in the fore-ground and the yachts behind

This is only village and port on the island which boast a population of approximately 50.  It is undeveloped and a soothing contrast to last night when the music went on ‘til about 4am.  We’ve been for several swims since arriving here as it is the best way to keep cool and now that the sun has dropped we plan to investigate a little restaurant up on the hill which according to the pilot book has breathtaking views and very reasonable food.  Let’s hope that this time, it is more accurate than it was about Astakos! 

At "Chef John's" restaurant high above Kastos harbour with breath-taking views and lovely food - highly recommended!