16 http://www.yachtingmonthly.com November 2017
Adventure
possible so the girls could dive off
and play in the water, or just relax
on deck. Gracie, our yacht, was
perfect. Favourite eldest and favourite
youngest shared one of the stern
cabins, favourite middle daughter had
the other to herself. Skipper and first
mate shared the forecabin. There were
two sets of heads and three showers, a
really superbly equipped galley, large
saloon and very adequate chart table
that doubled as nail varnish stowage.
Now, I am not the most experienced
sailor on this planet. I’ve crewed
for years, but skipper? No. It’s an
exciting job, I discovered, especially
all this stern-to mooring, with lots of
people watching on – although to give
them credit, taking pleasure when
it’s smoothly done. My first attempt
at mooring in a harbour was in the
dark – illegal in Greece for a charter
yacht, we were later told – but what a
fabulous feeling to get it right. A ‘Well
done Daddy,’ meant the world. To step
ashore, walk a dozen feet and sit down
at a taverna for supper – now that is a
pleasure of Greece.
All hands on deck
The Ionian is not only a place of
islands, little bays, predictable winds
and quaint harbours, but it is also full
of mystery and history. We went to
the island of Itháca, where Homer’s
Odyssey is said to be based, but we
didn’t go far from the boat – perhaps
next time.
So how did it go? In some ways,
taking teenagers on a sailing holiday
is pretty much like living with them
at home: they help a lot, but under
their terms and timing. The girls
fought over who made lunch, who was
on anchor duty, and who had found
which sea urchin.
That classic nautical cry, ‘All hands
on deck’, takes on a new meaning for
the teenage sun-worshippers lying
prone on the foredeck, barely smeared
with factor 25 sun cream.
They simply turn over
onto their tummies and
place their ‘hands on deck’
and take no further part
in the proceedings.
One morning in Kastós
Harbour, at the unearthly
hour of 0815, favourite
middle daughter arrived
on deck in her nightdress,
her hair tousled, her eyes
in that beautiful, fixed
stare of the half-awake, clutching
the small pillow she had made for
travelling. She made a few teenager-
ish utterances of complaint at being
woken by her younger sister and me,
before collapsing on the seat opposite.
After a few minutes of further slumber
there was a gentle grunt, which may
well have been an unladylike burp,
but which I took as, ‘Good morning’.
Further silence, then, ‘Daddy, I’m
tired’. But hey, I know by now that
nothing I say would ever convince
her to go to bed earlier;
that such wisdom as mine
would be wasted upon
those from a younger,
more knowing world; and
we are on holiday, so I
smile inwardly and keep
my mouth shut.
Then there was the
evening in Kióni Harbour.
I was walking ahead when
at the Mill Taverna, a
handsome waiter, from‘All hands on deck’ takes on new meaning for
the teenage sun-worshippers on the foredeck’
South Africa it transpired, stepped
forward and the accosted the up-till-
now favourite wife, and daughters.
He didn't even have to say anything.
There was no consultation, no
'Where do you think we should eat
tonight skipper, sir?' The decision
was taken out of my hands; this is
where we would be eating. Served at
every glance by the aforementioned
handsome South African waiter,
who was attentive to the last, each
daughter (and up-till-now favourite
wife) were convinced the attention
was for them. The glamour of the
evening was only heightened upon
discovery that a famous pop star had
eaten there some nights before. Wow!
The street cred...
One of the really fun things on
Gracie, a Bavaria 40 for those
interested, was the iPod link to the
speakers in the saloon and cockpit.
For a whole week I listened to
nothing but the Mamma Mia!
soundtrack. Slipping along at sixMy middle daughter
taking her turn helmingWe spent most of the trip reading and
sunbathing but all did a bit of helming