View from the guest cabin on Rampage…

This blog has been written by a recent guest on board, Julia Webb-Harvey (thankfully, better known as Jules….).

Duncan and Julia made the generous offer of a week on Rampage at the Flushing & Mylor Gig Club auction of promises… To cut a long story short, Sarah won the bid, and I got to travel with her, as her partner had his fill of small cabins in the Royal Navy. His loss; my gain. The thing that unites the four of us is gig rowing, so it was a leap of faith for all of us to swap oars for sails, and see if we could rub along for a week (the average rowing session is about 90 minutes).

Rampage dressed overall in Argostoli.

 Rampage was positioned in Argostoli to tie in with our flight arrival. There was no evidence of the horrors of her passage south when we first set eyes on Rampage, she was resplendent dressed overall. It made for a perfect start to the week, with the evening lost to pouring over charts, and pouring out of wine.. as well as provisioning and a boat briefing by the skipper. Yours truly is no stranger to sailing, but shipmate Sarah had lessons in marine toilets and the importance of water conservation (we were later awarded TOP guest points on the latter, which delighted us both, and yes, we did shower!). Sarah had ideas of learning to sail, but gave that up in the face of her other objective, to work down through the SPF factors and tan herself on the foredeck. I wanted to be as useful as I could be, knowing that folks who sail oft and long together develop a slick operation, where words are few. Duncan and Julia make no exception to this, and I was a handy pair of hands when asked.

Like any sailing I’ve ever done, there are aspirations and there are realities. I had sailed in the Ionian before (in 2004, when Greece hosted the Olympics), but couldn’t quite remember where I’d been (and I forgot to check my journal before we set off). Argostoli is a functional place, and after we’d seen ‘the’ turtle, we’d just about exhausted the highlights. Duncan and Julia were keen to take us to Kastos, one of their favourite places for cruising.

 In the week that we were there, the wind didn’t blow that much. Obviously it had exerted itself on the days before our arrival. The winds did their August thing, with afternoon sea-breezes, unless weather was lurking. It didn’t really suit the other ambitions for the week – swimming in the sea. That was my request, as a novice swimmer (only having learnt in 2002, I lack confidence in the sea). This demand on the schedule asked for lunch-time anchorages, or nights at anchor so that we could max out on water-time. This didn’t accord with the optimum time for actual sailing. In the week, we probably sailed, with the big white flappy things, for five/six hours. Good job Rampage has a decent engine!

Rampage on the quay in Poros, Kefalonia

Anyway, we spent a night in Poros, on the eastern flank of Kephalonia, a charming little port. The wind was forecast to give us a nice beam reach as we came around the southern end of Kepahalonia, but it failed to make the appointment. In fact, whilst having a ‘we have arrived’ drink in the Taverna, we watched the wind line advance across the sea, with a running swell that would have made the anchorage outside the harbour wall a little lumpy. Duncan cooked on the COBB (does the job) for supper, and we enjoyed pork slouvaki and salad in the cockpit of Rampage.

Sunrise on Kastos.

We motored to Kastos, with no interest from the wind. The sea was glassy, and a haze draped the islands and the mainland. Too darn hot. All of us flopped in the sea when we arrived and had safely anchored. The first time the anchor dragged on the weedy bottom, but the second bite, well, we weren’t going anywhere. Kastos was a reminder for me of one of the best things about sailing. It tucks you into places that you wouldn’t get to easily otherwise. Kastos isn’t on a big ferry route, as there really isn’t much there… in a very good way. It is unspoilt, and unfussy.

Sarah and I fell in love with Kastos, and we voted to have two nights there. The wind, of course, arrived on the second day, but we had other things to do. Sarah had baking to do, and Julia, Sarah and I mounted a snorkelling expedition along the coastline. On the first morning, we rose with the sun and the three girls walked around a path on the northern perimeter of the island, seeing no one until we headed back into Kastos town. Duncan came to meet us, and we had the most delicious frappe as reward for our efforts.

 From Kastos it was another motor to Aberlike (Meganisi), a stunning anchorage in a kind of inlet, with the land either side thick with shrubs. Not magnificent snorkelling, and even swimming had its risks as trip boats, jetskis and rental boats bombed up and down. Fortunately they all disappeared with the ebb of the day, and we were left to a perfectly still night. We walked across the headland to provision in the little town, and avail a little cafe of its wifi. It was there I was reminded that the wind is the real determinant of routes. We had made plans over breakfast to head for Kioni, Ithaca. A place that I remembered, and adored, from sailing in 2004. Mid-way through his strawberry milkshake, Duncan announced that the wind was interfering with our plans. Not really for the day, but for the remaining days of the trip. We needed to be tucked up somewhere safe from the weather that was fast approaching. When do we need to leave, I asked. “Four hours ago,” came the response. No time for lolling about, and no wonder there were clouds in the sky. There was weather coming.

 It wasn’t Ithaca we headed to, but Sami, back on Kephalonia. It meant a long day at sea (well, six hours), but we all respected the Skipper’s decision. The channel between Ithaca and Kephalonia was as I remembered – we always found wind (although I seem to remember that it was mostly beating into it). This wind was chasing the sea, making for a lively broad reach down the channel. It never ceases to amaze me that a boat takes on personality when at sail. Whinchat (our Rustler 42) is slow to accelerate in light winds, and then nestles into a running sea as the wind and waves build. Rampage, being lighter, has a livelier response, like a dog that’s been told its going for a walk, but you can sense the delight in being able to do what its supposed to. Ride, roam and be free. It was the highlight of the sailing part of the week, although not necessarily the highlight of the week,

 We made Sami a couple of hours after ideal berthing time, all of us slightly anxious that there would be no room. There’s always room, and the dream-team of Duncan and Julia nestled Rampage into a gap along the town quay. It felt incredibly busy after the remote anchorages, but we were all slightly de-mob happy that we were where we needed to be. Of course that meant a celebratory beer… and plans for the remaining day or so.

Dragouraki cave: the chair gives you some idea of scale!

 The last day wasn’t what any of us would have predicted, but it was a fitting end. That weather? Well it arrived bang on schedule, with the mother of all rainstorms and squally winds. Rampage was usurped by an underpowered Seat, which took us to places inland. The astonishing Drogarati caves (just outside of Sami), a superb lunch somewhere in the heartlands of Kephalonia, and then the idyllic Asos, where the girls had the last swim of the trip.

Assos, a lovely place for a swim.

 As to those highlights? Well, one of them is the effect that a week on Rampage can have on a girl… It comes highly recommended. Seriously, most of the items recorded here are highlights, but the best is the feeling that we have made new friends, and that those friendships will continue and grow over the winter months ahead when we’re all back in Cornwall.

 Thank you Duncan, Julia and Rampage.

 Before and after…

Sarah and Julia: before and after being Rampaged….

Julia Webb-Harvey

Www.whinchatter.com

(For anyone wanting to read about sailing a Rustler42)

Excitements at Sea

We were expecting guests aboard for the last week of August and had decided to sail to Argostoli on Kefalonia to meet them. The journey to Argostoli from Corfu took several days but all went well – initially. From Gouvia marina we went to Petriti on the southern end of Corfu island, and then on to Preveza. Next day we headed down through the Levkas canal, (now marked with posh buoys all the way down the channel,) and on to Abelike where we felt we could afford to spend a couple of nights. Whilst there we were delighted to meet up with our lovely friends Marilyn and Otto and joined them for a meal at Minas restaurant, before heading on to Poros.  

Note the smart new navigation buoys on the approach to Lefkas canal.

On 22nd August we set off on the final leg of our journey, round the southern coast of Kefalonia. We were quite relaxed as we set off, expecting a five to six hour trip. As soon as we rounded the bottom of the island we started to encounter significant swell and we could see wind approaching. We should have turned round as soon as we realised that the wind was almost straight on the nose but we decided to see how much progress we could make on a tack. We were somewhat surprised to find we were making reasonable ground so we pressed on. Gradually the wind built and we needed to reduce sail and it was at this point that things began to go wrong. The sail would not reef properly and we then realised that a bowline on the first reefing line had come undone and the line had disappeared inside the boom. Great! This was going to be a fun job to sort out at a later date. In the meantime we put in the second reef. Before long we were sailing with three reefs in the main and a pocket handkerchief of foresail.  

We were towing the dinghy which is never good in such circumstances but when we attempted to heave to, in order to haul her onboard, it was simply blowing too hard and we gave up – foolishly, as it subsequently turned out. Despite the weather, by 5pm we could see the airport near Argostoli. However getting to the town involved making our way up a channel down which the wind was now funnelling with ever-increasing ferocity. We came to the conclusion we weren’t going to make it – or at least not in daylight. We took the depressing decision that, despite by this time having been sailing for seven hours and being virtually within sight of our destination, that we had no alternative but to turn and run before the wind – all the way back to Poros, ☹️.

It was at this point that things completely deteriorated. I was at the helm and succeeded in making an unintentional gybe – a risk when sailing downwind and never good. The boom went crashing across to the opposite side of the boat and the windward sheet of the foresail caught round a cleat making the sail impossible to bring under control. Thankfully Duncan managed to sort that but by now the two foresail sheets were thoroughly twisted round each other and more to the point, steering was becoming quite a struggle, so we made the decision to drop the sails and motor. However, in order to drop the main, we were forced to turn up into the wind and doing so caused the dinghy to flip. It was at this point that the dinghy painter finally gave up the unequal struggle.

Thankfully we spotted that the tender had gone AWOL almost immediately and Duncan had the presence of mind to press the man-overboard button on the chart plotter. In order to attempt to retrieve the dinghy we first had to furl the foresail, albeit leaving the twisted sheets to be sorted later. Then, with the help of the chartplotter, we managed to spot the upside down dinghy amid the fairly considerable waves. After several attempts and the loss of one boathook, the handle of which came off in his hand, Duncan managed to snag the bridle and with some considerable effort, to raise the dinghy out of the water on a pulley system we have on the stern. Much relieved we then turned back towards Poros and I went forward to sort out the tangle of foresail sheets.  

We were looking at probably another three to four hours in fairly rough seas and we were both pretty weary by this stage so when we saw various boats at anchor near Pessades we decided to check it out. To our relief, in five metres of water over a splendid sandy seabed, (good holding for the anchor) we finally managed to stop, have something to eat and collapse into bed.

Entering Argostoli harbour on 23rd August

Next morning the sea had merely a gentle swell which vanished to flat calm as we came into Argostoli. After some breakfast D was able, with the aid of a broom handle and a fishing hook, to retrieve the reefing line from inside the boom. However, we resolved that our guests would to return to the airport by road at the end of their visit.  

Following in Lawrence Durrell’s Footsteps

The bust of Durrell in a small park in Corfu town

We returned to Greece on 31st July and spent the next few days relaxing and regrouping in the anchorage at Vonitsa, before making the decision to head up to Corfu. We’ve been there many times before but I very much wanted to revisit various places and take notes and photos as groundwork for a university assignment which will be based on Lawrence Durrell’s book about Corfu, Prospero’s Cell. However, our first attempt to head north had to be abandoned after five hours due to engine problems. We decided to return to Preveza where we were certain to be able to get assistance if needed. Just as we made the decision to turn round the wind picked up, as it generally does here in the afternoon, so we were somewhat consoled for the abortive trip because we had a really splendid sail all the way back into the anchorage.
Thankfully Duncan was able to get a new alternator regulator in Preveza the next day. Having fitted the replacement he then wanted to make a short trip, just to confirm that all was well and the engine was running properly. Thus back we went yet again to Vonitsa which is only about an hour and a half from Preveza as opposed to five or six to Gaios.

The colonnade in Corfu town which Durrell knew well and spent much time

Eventually we made it up to Corfu and spent a couple of nights anchored off the citadel so we could potter round Corfu town. We then heard via Facebook that other friends were at anchor off Gouvia marina. Since we planned to go into the marina for a couple of days anyway while we rented a car, we set off to find them. We had thought we would go straight into the marina and then contact them and arrange to meet up. Once again, however, fate had other plans. Unbelievably there was no room in the enormous marina so we decided to drop the hook in the anchorage while we regrouped and decided what to do next. We were not willing to leaving Rampage at anchor while we swanned off round the island by car so it began to look as if we would have to abandon the whole idea. We did think perhaps we might be able to go and anchor off Kalami, (one of my planned destinations,) but in the meantime we got together for a delightful reunion with Lynne and Jan Zielinski which was great compensation! 

Duncan then had the idea to book into the marina online and sure enough, a couple of days later we were safely installed just in front of the office, our accumulated washing dropped off at the laundry and a car booked for the next couple of days. Success!   

The next day just happened to be a public holiday (15th August,) so when we arrived in Kassiopi I didn’t recognise the place. In contrast to our previous visits made during the winter we spent on Corfu, the place was wall-to-wall holidaymakers and, quite frankly, fairly ghastly! I could not reconcile this noisy, hectic bustle with its innumerable tavernas and shops of dayglo-coloured tourist paraphernalia with Lawrence Durrell’s descriptions of diving to investigate an ancient well in the crystal waters of an idyllic little harbour. Much has changed on Corfu since the 1930s although this is not particularly evident from the photo below of the harbour.

Duncan, who doesn’t do crowds and was only there on my account was becoming increasingly morose, and when the church let out its exuberant congregation at midday, the noise factor increased as if someone had turned up the volume control. I persuaded him we should stop for a bit of lunch before heading back to Kalami where Durrell had his house. Lunch, luckily, turned out to be excellent and was further enlivened by the arrival of half a dozen priests in festive mood sporting a variety of beards and stomachs from the sparsely disappointing to the truly magnificent. At one point, apparently spontaneously, they all burst into song at which point all conversations paused momentarily while the other diners grinned at each other before resuming their chatter. We both felt more cheerful as we headed back to the car and Kalami.

Kassiopi harbour

We have anchored in Kalami bay more than once and have always thought it was beautiful. This time however, I felt disappointed somehow. Again, maybe I wanted to see it through Durrell’s eyes and the ugly hotel on the hillside and hundreds of umbrellas that carpet the beach really jarred. I did watch a young man drive off the rocks just below Durrell’s house and it occurred to me that he was very similar to photos I’ve seen of Durrell as a young man. His re-enactment of something Durrell himself must have done hundreds of times was a bit eyrie.  Now, as I write this post, I realise that I didn’t take any photos of Kalami, although I did take a few notes.  We didn’t stay long.

The rare sight of a near-empty beach at Paleokastritsa

We resolved that in order to avoid the worst of the crowds in Paleokastritsa, we would go there first thing.  This time we were more successful and arrived before the first of the coaches, while the little beach in the bay was nearly empty of people. We spent a couple of hours wandering round and taking photos and notes until the cars started to clog the single road and irritated drivers began to sound their horns. Time to leave. Next day we headed back south, to make our way, by degrees to Argostoli.  

I’m grateful to Duncan for allowing me to make the trip up to Corfu and whilst I was disenchanted by the unrelenting commercialism and the crowds everywhere we went, I recognise that parts of the island, (especially inland) are still lovely and the Greeks have every right to make as much money as possible during the very short tourist season. I’m just selfishly grateful that I have been privileged enough to be able to enjoy it during low season.   

Western coast of Corfu, just south of Paleokastritsa