99
View of
Livadhi Bay from The Old Chora, Serifos.
came in anyway, scraping Leonie’s paintwork along the way. A high-sided vessel, its fenders were not low enough to offer us any protection but the crew were too inexperienced to understand or quickly remedy the situation. Again, the wind was blowing the cat our way and we managed to hold it off while asking the crew to re-tie their fenders. As the wind was due to pick up later Carl told the skipper they would crush us and suggested they go at anchor instead. The skipper of another yacht came over to reinforce the dangerous situation and some time later the crew got the message and left – without a murmur of apology for the damage they had caused. The meltemi season started early in the Cyclades this
year and we were stuck at Posidhonia for a few days at the end of June while the wind raged out to sea. We had managed to tie-up in the nick of time, the
darkened skies hurling hail and rain with seconds to spare. The squall came so fast and without warning, panicking the unprepared skippers of the yachts’ either side to spring out and hastily adjust ropes in their underpants. The weather didn’t deter the local
youngsters (average age 10) from sailing into the bay in toppers every afternoon, going as far as just beyond the bay entrance one windy day. They were braver than us! We, meanwhile, had fun with the novelty of splashing around in big wind-whipped waves at the nearby beach. Windy it may be in the Cyclades but summer rain
is virtually non-existent. Many of the islands are dessicated and brown and, unlike the comparatively verdant inland Ionian isles with their pools of stagnant
The quayside church at Livadhi, Serifos.
Octopi are spread out to dry at a taverna in Naoussa, Paros.
water, mosquito-free. Here is the pure blue and white geometry of Greek
postcards. Sugar-cube houses sit under clear, bright skies. Nearly every town has its maze of whitewashed, narrow cobbled streets lined with cafés, tavernas, shops and tiny domed chapels – the Old Chora on the hills above Livadhi on Serifos among the prettiest with its sweeping vista across the bay below. It was in this bay that Carl lost his beloved silver wave-patterned bangle; wrenched off his wrist as he lunged to untie our in the way dinghy while reversing Leonie onto the quay. He tried to dive for it but
without his glasses couldn’t see in the murky water. The young Swiss chap on the next yacht offered to help and retrieved it. His name was Carlo. Later that month we were invited to an impromptu
party by three guys on the neighbouring yacht at Paroikia, Paros on the eve of Carl’s birthday (it involved lots of wine, loud music and some singing...). We staggered to bed sometime after 3am and were too hungover to celebrate properly the next day, surfacing only at dusk to watch Mama Mia The Return in the open-air cinema. We are one of many boats holed up at Naoussa
Harbour waiting for the meltemi to blow over before setting sail once again for new bays and anchorages, where Leonie will return to her primary summer role of being a floating beach-hut full of swimsuits, beach towels, masks and snorkels, newly found shells, sun-tan lotion, sun hats and cold beers.•
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