Simi, Rhodes and Kastellorizo

 

Simi is about 20 nautical miles due east of Nisiros, right in the Gulf of Doris in Turkey. Lots of cruisers had recommended a visit: Simi is famous for its crystal clear waters and the beauty of the main town and its harbour. The harbour is also a bit notorious for overcrowding with tripper boats, ferries and charter fleets. We’ve become reasonably adept at Med mooring – dropping the anchor well out in front of your berth and backing in – but we’ve had a few bad experiences attempting it in high winds, and also had other boats pull up our anchor while retrieving theirs, so, if there’s a good alternative we tend to take it. On Simi, the alternative is Ormos Panormitis, a sheltered bay on the south west of the island. We anchored out in the quiet bay, which has room for quite a fleet, and is overlooked by a monastery dedicated to St George. The water would probably be clear if it wasn’t for the ferries churning it all up a couple of times a day – it looked like turquoise milk. We had a pleasant meal at the lone taverna, along with most of the other boat people in the bay.

 

A bus leaves Panormitis each morning at 7.20, so we were outside the store bright and early next day for what turned out to be a spectacular trip through the island’s winding mountain roads – more like a plane flight than a bus ride. The seat next to the driver was obviously a coveted spot, and as soon as one local alighted, someone else would move up to ride shotgun. This person’s role seemed to be to distract the driver with loud conversation and dramatic gesticulation, particularly while negotiating hairpin bends.

 

Arriving safely in Simi town we sat in a café for a while and watched the place come to life, with shopkeepers opening up, fishermen docking and selling their catch, tour groups arriving and the waterfront cafes and restaurants filling to capacity. It really is an attractive town, with its colourful Venetian era houses and cobbled streets winding their way up the mountain. We managed the challenging walk up to the top, in pursuit of a geocache at the inevitable mountaintop church, but it was worth it for the stunning views of the harbour and the rugged coast of Turkey beyond.

 

Next day we set sail early for the island of Rhodes, the largest of the Dodecanese and the most popular tourist destination in Greece. A steep rugged island, it has few good anchorages and we had been warned off going into the main harbour with stories of dense ferry traffic, anchor wars and overcharging. Fortunately we also had a few good tips for anchorages just east of the harbour, and it was in one of these, Limin Arkandia, that we settled for a couple of days. Only one little old sailboat was occupying the bay, and we were a little anxious that everyone else might know something that we didn’t. Good shelter from the wind, good holding, very close to one of the gates of the Old City … admittedly it wasn’t the most attractive of areas, with a lot of run-down buildings ashore, and some big ferries did moor further out, but it suited us fine.

 

Just a quick dinghy ride and a short stroll and we were at the Akandia Gate, the easternmost entrance to Rhodes’ old walled city. Within the city, the Knights’ Quarter was the headquarters of the Knights of St John in medieval times, and quite a lot remains of the old fortifications.

The Hora is the old Turkish part of the city and is now full of colourful shops and restaurants. Terry discovered the wide angle lens he has been looking for in a tiny camera shop, and has been making good use of it since, while I bought a few gifts and a very nautical-looking cotton knit jacket. The harbour is busy and quite spectacular, with its antelope statues at the entrance – though of course sailing between the legs of the famous Colossus (did it bestride the harbour or not – the debate continues) would have been a wonder indeed.

There is a good museum within the old town, and we discovered a bar called “Mr Troll” where Terry was able to enjoy one of his favourite beers – more of which in the next instalment of his Beer Tour of the World.

 

There is a lot more to see on this remarkable island, but we will have to save it for the return journey as we have nearly run out of legal days in Greece. The Shengen Agreement, which limits non-EU visitors to 90 days, must be having a negative impact on tourism in the Greek islands. It was obviously introduced to combat illegal immigration, but as is so often the case, there are unintended consequences. There are 25 yachts from non-Shengen countries wintering in Finike with us, and many more in other Turkish marinas. I’m sure that a lot of them would have stayed in Greece if they could, spending money and supporting the small businesses – restaurants, bars, market stalls, chandlers, mechanics, laundries, canvas repairs, car hire etc etc – that are currently battling to survive.

 

So, the last leg in Greece, Rhodes to Kastellorizo. This was a pleasant overnight passage, which we managed under sail until the early hours of the morning when the wind died. Even then, a following current helped to push us along and we were scooting along the mountainous Turkish coast as the sun rose. Kastellorizo, also known as Megisti, is the easternmost major island of Greece. (The tiny island of Ro is slightly closer – famous for Despina, the ‘Lady of Ro’ who lived alone on the island until she died at 94, and proudly raised the Greek flag every day throughout the Italian occupation). Kastellorizo used to sustain a population of around 20,000, now down to about 200. Its stories are the usual Mediterranean tragedies of natural disaster, war and occupation. The island was attacked by both sides during World War II, with the bombing of a fuel depot taking out much of the town.

Many evacuees had nothing to return to, and settled overseas. A great many of Western Australia’s Greek families hail from this tiny island, and Aussie accents are as common as Greek ones, with many ‘Kassies’ returning here for holidays, family reunions or to claim and renovate the old family home.

 

We arrived at just the right time – about 0930 – before the arrival of the ferries and the many charter yachts that dock here. One of the taverna staff helped us to dock in a good spot right in the middle of the harbour, and we relaxed with a coffee watching the harbour activity (something we seem to do quite a lot of!) It’s a friendly, sociable sort of place with many Kazzies and others stopping for a chat at the stern of the boat when they saw our ‘Fremantle Australia’ home port.

We did a bit of hiking – there is a ruined Venetian era castle and a ‘paleokastro’ which we didn’t quite manage to get to when, after walking for hours, we looked up at the dispiritingly long, steep, winding, featureless road ahead. The harbour was picturesque and very clear and calm for swimming and kayaking, so between that and eating and drinking, our last couple of days passed pleasantly, with only one brief crisis when a German charter boat pulled up our anchor in the early hours of the morning.

 

Checking out of Greece with the Port Police, then Customs and Immigration, then the Port Police again, then Customs again, with much filling out of forms, signing of entries in bound registers, rubber stamping and various other nineteenth century bureaucratic procedures, was quite entertaining. Then, next morning, we were on our way to Turkey!

 

Cos and Nisiros

We enjoyed another fine day's sailing from Astipalea to the large island of Cos, which is in the eastern Dodecanese, pinched between two fingers of the Turkish coast. Unable to make a booking in the popular marina near Cos town, we anchored in the Bay of Kamares, a long stretch of white sand and pebble beach on the southern end of Cos protected by a towering volcanic headland. It turned out to be a great anchorage, with excellent holding, crystal clear water for swimming straight off the boat and a pleasant beachfront with, as usual, a choice of excellent tavernas. Santa Barbara was our favourite, with its friendly staff and excellent, cheap family-style food.

 

It was fortunate that we arrived on this stretch of paradise just a little after the peak holiday season, when, apparently, the beach is packed with umbrellas and sun lounges (you guessed it, three euros) and the water is packed with wave skis, jet-skis and fast boats pulling screaming kids on blow-up thingies. As it was, there was an average of five or six yachts at anchor and enough tourists to keep the bars and taverns sociable without being noisy or overcrowded.

 

On our first day, we made an 'accidental' trip to Cos town on the bus, looking to renew our internet. The local bus took a scenic route the length of the island, giving us a chance to see its fertile farmlands and rugged coastline, as well as the mountains to the east. The town itself was a delight, with a real mix of all its heritage apparent in the architecture - modern villas, the familiar winding streets and white houses of the old town, Venetian-era walls and harbour buildings, a mosque from Ottoman times (now a café/ gift store) and, overlooking all, the formidable castle of the Knights of St John who occupied Cos as well as Rhodes before their forced exodus to Malta. This is an impressive old ruin, with battlements, dungeons and a moat – just the sort of real castle you would build if given a huge bucket of Lego. Architecture is constantly recycled in Cos, and it is common to see fragments of classical marbles incorporated into walls, ancient columns gracing new villas and sarcophagi doing duty as fountains. Like the rest of the Mediterranean, everyone takes 2500+ years of history totally for granted.

 

The most famous legacy of Cos is not the green crunchy lettuce, splendid though this is. Hippocrates, the ‘father of medicine’ lived, worked and taught here.  The remains of his medical complex can still be seen, along with an ancient plane tree, claimed to be the actual tree under which he instructed his students (actually dated a bit younger than this, but why spoil a good local legend?) Hippocrates left us the famous Oath, of course, though the only bit most of us know is “at least do no harm” or words to that effect. Interestingly, it also forbids euthanasia, abortion and taking sexual or financial advantage of patients, and insists upon patient confidentiality. There is a marble statue of Hippocrates in the museum, but like so many archaeological enterprises in Greece, it is closed due to lack of funds.

While life was very pleasant within the bay, outside another strong northerly raged, keeping us imprisoned in paradise for a week. It was warm and free of swell, so there was no problem swimming, snorkeling or taking the dinghy in to enjoy a meal or a walk. We hiked up a substantial hill to the little town of Kefalos, which has awesome 360 degree views of Cos and its neighbouring islands – just don’t believe what the cruising guide says about it being an easy 15 minute walk! After watching the windsurfers zipping by in perfect conditions all week, I resolved to give it a try and took a two hour lesson, which turned out to be a lot of fun. It only took a few dunkings to learn what not to do, and I was soon scooting along at what felt to me like a cracking pace but probably looked fairly sedate from the beach.

 

We had the good fortune to meet our Swiss neighbours at anchor, Doris and Hans, with their children Jessica and Geoffrey aboard Tamango II. When the wind eased, we headed over with them to the nearby island of Nisiros where we once again got to practice the art of Med mooring in the small harbour in Palon.  Cos, Yiali, Nisiros and all the surrounding small islands are part of a volcano complex with its central caldera in the centre of Nisiros. The entire island complex is volcanic, formed of layers of basalt (from the lava) and pumice (from the ash) along with many other mineral deposits such as sulphur, manganese and black obsidian glass. The island of Yiali is pretty much a gigantic lump of white pumice, which has been heavily mined, surrounded by vivid blue water.

 

We hired a couple of scooters for a trip to the caldera, which was pretty spectacular with its four kilometre wide crater, varied mineral layers evident in the steep slopes and the steaming sulphurous fumaroles in its floor. Its last major eruption was 20,000 years ago, giving the island its current shape, but it is still active. You can walk on the crater floor but you are responsible for your own safety – the sand and rock are extremely hot and the steam is scalding.  Lonely Planet says not to walk out too far as the ground can collapse but we read this after we’d been out there, along with another 50 tourists. The volcanic soil is very fertile, and almost every square metre of the mountainous island is cultivated, by means of hundreds of kilometres of stone terraces. It’s obvious that Nisiros used to sustain a much larger population than it does now (there must have been an army of stone terrace builders, for a start). As with most of the islands, waves of migration (mainly to North America, the UK and Australia) have followed natural, political and economic disasters. In the smaller villages outside the tourist areas, only elderly people seem to remain, the bent old women in black, the old men stroking their worry beads as they sit all day in the kafeneon.

 

We rode the scooter up to the small village of Nikia to see the crater from the rim, and, next day hiked over to the remains of a handsome thermal spa, another defunct project from an earlier financial crisis. It looks as though there has been a recent effort to refurbish the spa, but that too seems to have fallen victim. Greece has just as many modern ruins as ancient ones.

 

Today the strong winds have settled, but many of the yachts sheltering here in Palon Harbour are waiting for a rain squall, expected this evening, to pass. It will be the first rain we have experienced since Tunisia back in February – the red dirt of Malta might finally wash off all the instruments at the top of the mast! Only a couple of weeks left before our visa conditions require us to leave Greece, so hopefully we can squeeze in a few days in Symi, Rhodes and Kastellorizo before crossing to Turkey.

 

Crete to Astipalea

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.

Kali spera! That’s good evening.*

* For fellow fans of The Castle