Three cruise ships, carrying up to 3,000 passengers each, moor up at Mykonos


swathes of flowering bushes. Dozens of ubiquitous tiny churches pop up amid the


rocky barren landscape along with pockets of green oases which provide Tinos with plenty of water. We loved Tinos even more after experiencing the dubious ‘delights’ of the vastly more popular Mykonos. A screaming meltemi wind left us stuck on the island for four days. Every day, three (once four) huge cruise liners unloaded thousands of passengers into the small port. We ventured into town once.


That was enough. From the hilltop windmill (which few climb up to) the view over the whitewashed buildings and the sparkling turquoise bay is picturesque. But down among the jostling


throngs, where overpriced shops, cafes and tavernas vie for cash cheek by jowl in the twisty narrow streets, the ever-present friendly and genuine Greek hospitality is sorely amiss. Two freddo espressos were served without the hint of a smile, usual complementary glass of cool water or sweetmeat for the rip-off price of €10. The attempts at exploitation seemed to fail to hit their mark though, as few clutched new purchases or graced the tavernas at lunchtime. Our arrival at Mykonos Marina, thankfully some


A pretty whitewashed church in Mykonos Town


entry as we hadn’t booked, via a text message to his mobile phone. This unique method of securing a berth in a safe haven (there was no mention of it in the pilot book) was barked at us by the highly stressed official, who told us to come back in three hours. Naturally, Carl refused to return to the inhospitable sea and told the captain he was ‘crazy’ as there was plenty of space in the marina. Lacking time to argue the captain allowed us to moor stern-to (anchor out front, back of the yacht tied to the quay) on the outer pontoon. A constant swell kept Leonie in motion but at least the wind was blowing us off the quay. We duly sent the captain a text requesting a berth, which he said he would look at that evening and deliver his verdict in the morning. An elderly French captain and his aged male companion attempted to moor stern-to alongside us but was unable to manage it in the wind. On the advice of another marina official he drove in bows first without a kedge


distance from the town, was tainted with tension. After an uncomfortable passage in a rolly unpredictable swell and high winds the harbour captain refused us


anchor to hold him in place. This meant the wind was pushing his big yacht onto our little one. I desperately attempted to fend them off while Carl handled the ropes the newcomers were too weak to grapple with. Carl told them to leave as the situation did not improve and was dangerous (for Leonie). After a conflab they backed out too quickly and without due care and attention. The wind pushed them against Leonie and their dangling anchor nearly ripped our shrouds out.


Left:A pretty whitwashed church in one of Tinos’ villages


Lefkas canal as it enters the Inland Ionian Sea Below:A cliff hugging village on Tinos


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