By the end of the fortnight, we are more than ready to move on,
and relieved when our excellent French engineer, Pierre,
announces that the thrusters are back in working order. Well,
almost. The remote control unit, which enables Frank to
manoeuvre Zaffi na from the cockpit whilst I swim ashore to
tie to a convenient tree or rock, remains out of action. This is a
frustrating but manageable problem. I feel as though a weight
has been lifted from my shoulders when we fi nally set out to
sea, waving a cheery “yassas” to the marineros in the port, and
hoping we won’t see them again for a while.
CHANGE OF PLAN
The sea is neither rough nor calm as we head south, but it is
exhilarating to be back on the go again, and although we’re still
in Greek waters, we are so close to the Turkish coast that we are
constantly looking for anchorages that may be useful in the future.
Some years ago, I visited Symi by boat, and I have an abiding
memory of the approach, passing through a narrow channel
between the island and an islet offshore, and suddenly, here it is,
that same channel and towering rock. As we glide into the bay,
the sea fl attens out to a pristine, icy calm, and Frank pushes the
throttles forward, carving a clean white V in the water behind us.
We decide to anchor off rather than going into the harbour, but
the water is too deep for us to feel secure so we move on to
nearby Pedi and prepare to drop the hook in the bay.
I am standing on the bow ready for the anchor to go down,
when I look up at the bridge. Frank’s expression is a mixture
of fury, resignation and disappointment, and, as I hear the faint
beeping of an alarm, I realise why: the thrusters have failed again.
Our carefree mood evaporates and my heart sinks. Summer is
drifting away far too quickly, and the idea of another enforced
stay in Kos whilst the parts are returned to Italy yet again is
unbearable, and yet we may have no other choice.
By the time the anchor is set, Frank is back on the phone to
Pierre, and our plans for the next two weeks have been amended.
Instead of moving from here to Turkey and leaving Zaffi na in
Bodrum whilst we return home, we will return her to Kos for
the work to be carried out. In the meantime, we are determined
to enjoy Symi and the island doesn’t disappoint. Pedi is simply
beautiful, and although the wind comes up regularly half way
through the afternoon, it drops away by dinnertime and the sea
is invariably perfectly calm through the night.
On our second morning, we decide to move to a space that has
been vacated in the middle of the bay. The pilot book warns of
poor holding, and Frank is determined that we will be fi rmly set,
so he takes his time manoeuvring us into the perfect position.
Just as he is turning Zaffi na into the wind, an Italian yacht comes
in at speed and is preparing to cut across us and take the spot.
There is a glint in Frank’s eye as the yacht takes aim across our
bow, but rather than giving way, he continues to ease Zaffi na
forward, releases the anchor and starts to drop back, much to the
annoyance of the other skipper. We are lucky, our anchor holds
fi rm, and better still, once we are fi rmly in our new position, we
watch the cowboy yachtsman anchoring too fast and too close
to another boat and then dragging dramatically and having to
re-anchor further out!
Attractive pastel-hued
houses crowd Symi’s harbourLEFT The monastery
of St Michael, Symi,
frames Zaffi na
RIGHT Faulty thrusters
make manoeuvring
trickier than normalFrom Pedi, we take the dinghy around into the main town,
which has to be one of the prettiest in the Greek islands. Unlike
Mykonos and Santorini, which are known for their white sugar
cube houses, here the buildings are painted in an assortment of
pastel shades and all beautifully maintained. The Venetian infl uence
is obvious, and with houses clustered on the hillside overlooking
a magnifi cent natural harbour crowded with yachts, gullets and
motorboats, the effect is simply stunning. The cafés and stores
appear to be thriving, but chatting to an English assistant in a
waterfront shop, I am told that the combination of bad publicity
about the refugees and fears for the Greek economy has resulted
in an appalling season for the island. I feel it is my moral duty to
buy yet another pair of Greek sandals.SACRED STOPOVER
Before returning to Kos, we decide to have one more stop in Symi,
at a secluded anchorage we’ve seen on the chart. There are few other
boats around as we leave Pedi and potter along the uninhabited and
attractive coast, almost circumnavigating the island before we come
to our chosen spot. The beauty of the anchorage we have chosen is
that it is almost landlocked, and unless there are katabatic winds
here, we should have shelter from just about every direction. As
we draw into the bay we gasp; although we had expected almost
complete solitude here, there is an enormous and impressive
building on the shore. It turns out to be the monastery of St
Michael, and after securing Zaffi na, we head across to see it close up.
Twice a day, tour boats tie up on the quay here and stay for about
an hour. During that time the monastery is overrun with hundreds
of trippers who pour onto the shore. But the moment the boats have
left, the calm ambience of the building is restored and as we wander
around, we are struck by the tranquillity and calm of this place of
worship. After the frustrations of recent days, it is a pleasure to
absorb the atmosphere and appreciate once
again all the benefi ts of our boating lifestyle.
We will return from here to Kos, and once
Zaffi na is restored to full thrust, we intend to leave
Greece and head into Turkish waters. Our three
years here, fi rst in the Ionian Islands and then in
the Peloponnese, the Cyclades, the Sporades and
the Dodecanese, have been amazing and given us
some of the best cruising ever. Naturally we are
sad to be leaving this behind, but the nearby coast
of Turkey has already whetted our appetites for
adventure and the idea of moving on to a new and
unknown country is deliciously exciting. We are
ready for the next chapter in our seafaring story.