When I read back over this blog, I see a
lot of complaining about the wind - there’s either too much, not enough, or
it’s coming from the wrong direction. So
I’m delighted to be able to write that the conditions for our passage from Agios
Nikolaos in Crete to the small island of Astipalea, about 90 nautical miles to
the north-north-east, were absolutely perfect. A fine warm day, with a good 20 knot steady
breeze from the north-west, and Common
Sense was zipping through the
aquamarine waters of the eastern Med like a kid let out of school for the
summer holidays. One minor irritation
was that the metal bar that tells the autopilot where the rudder position is
came adrift – I fixed it by climbing into the lazarette with a roll of good old gaffer tape and
taped it back together.
This was an overnight sail, so we prepared
our favourite chicken and vegetable soup in the morning before setting out. All you do is throw into the pressure cooker a
whole chicken, a few carrots, celery, onions and whatever other veges and herbs
you like, some stock; cook it up, let it
steam for about seven minutes then put the whole cooker, still sealed, in the
sink wrapped in a towel. At about sunset it will be perfectly cooked, still
warm and totally delicious with a chunk of local bread, right when you need it.
We were given this recipe by our friend Jane of MV “Bliss” back at Kent Narrows – we’ve enjoyed it many times and on a couple
of bleak, difficult passages, it has been a lifesaver!
This night was by no means bleak. For the
most part we skimmed along under an orange half moon and a skyfull of stars,
leaving a glimmering wake of phosphorescence behind us. The motor went on
briefly during a couple of lulls, but once the sun rose we were back under sail
and approaching the island. It was a day
and night of splendid isolation – no other yachts in sight, or on the AIS, and
only three large vessels. There was
nobody to share the ocean with.
Like many of the Dodecanese, Astipalea is
the top of a mountain range, barren and steep-to, set in a gloriously deep,
clear blue sea. It is shaped like a butterfly, with a narrow strip of land just
100 meters wide separating the two ‘wings’. The approach to the main harbour
and chora is quite spectacular, especially in the golden light of early morning
when the ruins of the Venetian castle and the white buildings of the town look
like snow capping the steep hills.
Following the advice in the Pilot Guide we
made for a bay a little north-east of the main town, Ormos Maltezana. It looked
fine, but after half a dozen unsuccessful attempts to set the anchor it seemed
that the ‘sandy bottom’ was in fact about one inch of sand over a whole lot of
rock. Rather frustrated and feeling a bit seedy from lack of sleep, we motored
around to the next bay, Ormos Sxhinointas and hooked in first go in a perfect
sheltered spot – a fine swimming beach with a choice of three tavernas and a
view out over a blue bay full of tiny sun seared islands.
Evening view from the taverna
After a good rest we spent a few days
exploring Astipalea. There are regular local buses in to the chora, with the
bonus of a scenic ride across the island with spectacular views from the
hilltops down over curving bays and scattered islets. The chora is a classic
old town with its whitewashed, blue-trimmed houses, tiny domed churches and
steep cobbled streets. I read somewhere that all the blue and white of the
eastern Greek islands came about as a defiant statement of patriotism – the
colours of the Geek flag - against the Italian occupation of 1912. It is
certainly attractive, especially when the blues reflect the colours of the sea
and sky, and contrast with the vivid reds and pinks of bougainvillea and
geraniums and the lush greens of figs and vines.
Windmills and the castle
For much of its history, Astipalea has been
a haven for pirates, ideally located as it is for preying on the trade between
east and west. The Romans suppressed piracy, as did the English much later, but
in general, the islanders have had to tolerate or collaborate with pirates of
various origins. The ruined castle that overlooks the chora dates from medieval
times and was the home of the Venetian Querini family for three hundred years,
granted to them for their contribution to the Crusades. At the time, the island
was known as Stampalia and the Querinis were wealthy, respectable pirates with
a fabulous view of the surrounding seas.
We arrived here as the holiday season
finished – apparently several thousand
people departed on the ferries the weekend before – and now the island has
reverted to its normal relaxed pace. We’ve done a little hiking, but the Roman
archaeological sites have been covered to protect them until some more funds are
found for research and preservation, so there is not a lot to see except for
burnt hills, rocks, goats and ocean views. Food in the tavernas is good,
especially the one up on the hill which grills meat from its own herds, on the
small farm just out the back. The charcoal grilled lamb we had there is right up
there with the tastiest and tenderest meat I’ve ever eaten – quite sensational!
But all good things must end, and now we
are once again battened down, waiting out the [expletive deleted] Meltemi yet
again. How people in this part of the world tolerate being blasted by this
rotten wind for weeks on end every year is beyond me. Along with earthquakes, invasions and economic
depressions, perhaps it’s another reason why so many Greeks from the islands of
the Dodecanese made their way to Australia, the US and the UK as migrants?
Still, there are worse places to be stuck than this lovely bay. While the wind
rages out there, it’s calm enough (and warm enough) to swim, and to take the
dinghy in for another souvlaki and retsina at the tavern.
When the wind eases tomorrow, we are
planning to head east to the large island of Cos.
* For fellow fans of The Castle
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