Navpaktos, Greece

From Sivota we sailed down to Fiskardho, the setting for Captain Corelli's Mandolin. An old Venetian lighthouse on the northern headland greets you as you enter the little bay on the north east of Kefalonia. The quay wraps around the bay and the little historic town wraps in turn around the quay.

What a busy little tourist port: the circling and jockeying for position exceeded even the worst of the monkeying you would witness at Bondi Beach car park on a nippers morning. And like Bondi, once it's full you can forget it. We ended up spending about 2 hours trying to get an anchor biting into the shale bottom and a line ashore further out near the lighthouse. Whilst stressful at the time, this then gave us a license to snicker at the later boats having the same struggle while we had a swim and a beer. With 25 kts on the side we needed it solid so we stayed there two days to get the return on our investment.

After that we took advantage of the morning changeover to grab one of the spots on the pontoon. This permitted a few meals out in the town including one lunch at a particularly romantic restaurant on the beach. However, once again the relentless 24/7 presence of kids was felt keenly, a bit like having a neighbour endlessly play the Banana Splits theme while one attempts to listen to Moonlight Sonata.


A bushwalk walk out to the old lighthouse with a view of the ridiculous superyachts created a bit of perspective. Realistically Fiskardho is a fantastic sleepy tourist town that somehow seems to retain it's original charms, and one could easily spend a week or two there recharging the batteries. However, after 4 days in one spot the feet were itchy and so it was time to move on to less populated climes.


Once again we found a deserted white pebble beach and decided to stay so as to better advance the cause of nude skindiving in the Ionian. The weather had settled and in the lee of Odysseus' Island of Ithaca it was all pretty satisfactory and warranted a second night. The wind sprung up though and for the second time our inadequacies with the setting the pick were exposed, with Familia making an unauthorised midnight sojourn, dragging 35m of chain and the CQR out into the deep blue. Watch out for the weedy bottoms. Happily the next set took OK but the rest of the evening was not restful.


The next day it was out with the manual and back to basics for a refresher class in anchor setting while we set sail (motor) for our first taste of the Greek mainland. Missalongion was an underwhelming reminder that not all of Greece can get a gig on a postcard, but we followed this up by taking a chance to see if we could get a spot in the impossibly small port of Navpaktos.

Navpaktos is apparently one of the few old fortified ports in the Med and we were lucky to get one of only 3 available spots behind the eastern battlements. Apparently Cervantes swapped his pen for a sword here in 1571 to help fight off the Turks, so his statue is now flourishing his blade in our direction. Once again, nothing this gorgeous could escape the weight of tourism and hence we are surrounded by groovy cafes and bars which all overlook us and the old port. While sleepy during the day and perfect for enjoying a sundowner looking over the boat, it's all doof after 9pm. We are getting used to this though: after a few nights anchored in the heart of party towns the music now tends to play a part in the dreams rather than disturb them.

We are heading in the direction of the Canal of Corinth and Athens before tackling the Agean, home of the cheerless meltimi wind, hot and strong. Beyond that, Turkey beckons. We are wondering whether there is anything in the rumours of listless and joyless middle eastern heat, or if this is just the product of pommy whingeing.

Only one way to find out for sure.